


even the smaller moments matter

by stop_breaking_my_heart_telltale



Series: [reasons to survive] [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)
Genre: Multi, but still it's fine, fuffy clouis moments, justin and marcus makes appearences too, mitch gets his own little storyline, ok they're not all drabbles because most of them will probably be more than 100 words, omar gets the backstory he deserves, ruby thinks about aasim more than she lets on, twdg drabble challenge from tumblr, twdgdrabblechallenge, willy doesn't know how to knock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-01-16 06:09:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 26,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21266321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stop_breaking_my_heart_telltale/pseuds/stop_breaking_my_heart_telltale
Summary: [part of the #twdgdrabblechallenge I started on Tumblr!]A collection of short stories and drabbles of the smaller moments within the [reasons to survive] AU.





	1. [she missed, but not entirely]

**Author's Note:**

> Day 01: Scar
> 
> Yay! 1st day of the drabble challenge! And I totally went over 100 words, just like I said I would because what is a drabble, really?? Have you MET me?? 
> 
> You can find the challenge here on my tumblr @stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale if you're interested in checking out the prompts!: https://stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale.tumblr.com/post/188685687800/twdg-writing-challenge-write-a-drabble-every-day

It’s still visible, especially in the warm light the afternoon brought upon the school grounds. 

Louis works silently with a knife in one hand and a piece of wood in the other, brows furrowed in a deep concentration from the other end of the table. Violet can’t see what he’s carving, but it’s small and delicate within his larger hand. 

Shoulders hunched and bangs obscuring her vision, Violet watches him silently, fixated first on his hands, then on his chin. 

Still visible. 

_“Violet!”_

Completely healed, but visible. 

_“Vi, we have to go-”_

_“Fuck off!”_

It’s been over a year. 

Of course, it’s healed. 

_Rough, panicked hands grabbed at her jacket, yanking with incredible strength to pull her away from Minnie’s unconscious figure._

_“Vi, I’m sorry-”_

_“No!”_

_“-but we have to go! The bomb-”_

_“Get the fuck off me, Louis!” _

_His arms encircled her waist, lifting her off the ground. She struggled, beating her fists against his chest. _

_“I’m not- I’m not leaving you here- stop!”_

_She thrashed, legs kicking and arms flailing, hoping to land a hit- any hit- that would break her free. _

_“Violet!”_

Louis pulls back to admire the wood, turning it over and spotting something. From the table, he grabs an exact-o knife, one from Tenn’s art kit, and begins to shave off the wood with such delicate flicks of his wrist. 

Violet absently moves her pencil back in forth in her notebook without taking her eyes off his face, creating a thick, smeared square of graphite on the page. 

_He dropped her when she landed an elbow to his ribs. On hands and knees, she crawled away from him, though she didn’t get very far. Louis grabbed her again, grunting and letting out a string of panicked curses. She flopped down onto her stomach with Louis above her, pleading, “Vi, please, we can’t stay here!”_

_“Just fucking leave me-”  
_

_“No! I’m serious, get your ass up and MOVE!”  
_

_“I’m not leaving her!”_

_“It’s not her, Vi!” _

_His voice is so harsh in her ear, deep and filled with a concoction of panic, anger, grief, and who knows what else. _

_“She killed Sophie! She tried to kill Clem, you saw her! ”_

_“So we’re just going to leave her? Fuck y-!”_

_A deep rumble, a jerk of the boat. Her temple bounced off the hard floor beneath her as he cursed._

“Shit,” Louis murmurs to himself, setting the wood down and looking over his tools with a frown. He eventually settles on the previous knife with a sigh. He grumbles something, scratching at his chin. 

_“Shit, shit, shit! I’m not letting you die here, not for her!”_

_She’s off the ground again, being dragged away too quickly for to completely comprehend. Just as they’re outside with Louis’ back pressed against the railing, him looking over into the black water below, Violet swung. _

_It barely missed his face, but the force of it brought her body colliding with his, chest to chest. _

_“Violet, stop!”_

_She went for his eyes-_

She was going to do it. 

In that moment, Violet was actually going to gouge out Louis’ eyes. 

She was going to take her thumbs and sink them into those loving, dark eyes until they were nothing but gushing gore on his face. 

All so that she could crawl back to-

To-

_She missed, but not entirely. _

_Louis threw his head back and her thumbnail sunk into his chin, breaking the flesh and causing him to cry out. Perhaps it was that cry that brought a cold realization upon her, or maybe it was the blood. Maybe even the explosion. _

_It rocked the boat, knocking them both down against the railing with shards of wood and other materials flying all around them. _

_Blood ran out of the wound on Louis’ face, smearing up against his lips and dribbling down his chin to stain the front of his shirt. He didn’t seem to feel the pain, though, because the next thing Violet knew, he jerked her up again. _

_“I’m sorry-” _

_He threw her over._

_She hit the water. _

_It was cold._

_Dark. _

The last thing Violet remembered of that moment was Louis jumping in after her, pulling her to shore as the boat blew to pieces, coloring the area with vivid oranges and yellows, and him kicking away a walker that had grabbed onto her boot. 

His chin was still bleeding.

The scar’s visible, and every time Violet looks at him, she can’t help but let her gaze wander down to it and she’s reminded of the day she was ready to blind one her best friends and die in the prison of that boat holding a girl who broke her heart in every way possible. 

And every time she’s thankful she lost that fight, more than willing to feel that girthy ball of guilt sink down in her stomach so long as it means they both okay and alive- that _Louis_ is alive and okay and will one day forgive her for that moment of rage-induced weakness. 

At least, that's what she hopes. 


	2. [a fucking beauty]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 02: Knife

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'know, Mitch is such a dingdong sometimes

The crunch beneath his foot startles him. 

A quiet thud draws Mitch’s gaze down, squinting through the darkness to make out the figure of a half-smushed box beneath his boot. He nearly tripped over the damn thing, having to steady himself against the doorframe to keep from losing balance. 

“What the hell?”

Mitch lightly kicks it, stepping back and waiting. When nothing happens, he figures it’s not another one of Willy’s pranks. 

Unless, of course, it_ is_ and the kid finally figured out how to wire something to explode upon being opened.

Kneeling down, Mitch cautiously examines the box. It’s weighty, but not necessarily heavy. Covered in dried water damage, discolored in a camouflage of browns and grays, a string secures it together. 

There’s no note, only his name scribbled in the center.

_To Mitch_

Shaking it back and forth, something slides around inside, but nothing of alarm happens. Pulling his pocketknife out, he quickly cuts the string and shrugs off the lid to find white tissue paper surrounding-

“Holy shit-”

He tears the whole thing apart, tissue paper flying around in every direction until he fumbles and drops the object of his desire, nearly having it fall on his foot. 

It’s a knife.

No, no, no. 

It’s a fucking _beauty_. 

With only the moonlight illuminating the hallways around him, Mitch confirms that this is the most beautiful knife he’s even held with his own two hands.

Freshly sharpened, polished so clearly that he can nearly see his reflection, and a firm leather handle, something hand-stitched together- holy shit, how long would that have taken? Hours? Days, even? It’s damn near professional. 

Mitch falls back on his bum, admiring the knife without even trying to hide the huge grin plastered over his lips. 

Again, his name appears stitched into the handle, small and neat.

_Mitch_

He runs his thumb over it as his heart swells, his smile widening.

"Where the hell did Willy find this? And how’d he do that?” he mumbles to himself.

He’d have to remember to thank the young boy and ask him how he got the stitching so perfect. 


	3. [can't help it]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 03: "You make me laugh."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rusim? Rusim.

She can’t help it. 

He’s pouting and it’s just-

_It’s funny._

Ruby tries to repress the giggles boiling up and over behind her hand, coughing instead to cover up the amusement at the exasperation weighing down Aasim’s brow, lips pressed into a stern line of displeasure. 

If he were a toddler, Ruby’s sure he would’ve stomped his foot, kicked Louis in the shin, then turn away to plop down in his desk with his arms crossed and bottom lip pouting out dramatically. 

However, since Aasim is_ not_ a toddler, he can’t go around kicking Louis every time he teased him. 

Instead, he sits at his desk with his pencil scribbling fast and messy and well-

His bottom lip protrudes the_ slightest_ bit. 

She can’t help it. 

Ruby giggles.

Aasim stops writing, gaze snapping up to glare at such laughter, but softens when he sees it’s her. 

“What?” he asks. 

She shakes her head, motioning towards him. 

Aasim frowns.

“What?” he asks again.

“You,” she grins. 

“Me?”

“Ya make me laugh.” 

Rosiness deepens along his cheeks and ears, eyes widening before thinning into a half-hearted glare. 

That only makes her laugh harder. 


	4. [risky]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 04: Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, James........

While James dabbled in different art mediums such as drawing, painting, sewing, and pottery, he wouldn’t exactly call himself a well-rounded artist, especially given the circumstances of the past eight years. 

Despite this, now that he’s found a place he dares think of as a home, he’s had the opportunity to dabble once more. It’s mostly drawing; portraits and doddles, of course. 

Aside from that, though, he’s allowed his creativity to spread and bleed into weapon making. 

More specifically: knives. 

He made a few practice ones using scraps from other rusty, broken knives. Some turned out better than others, but this one is his best yet. 

It’s new and improved, a freshly sharpened and polished blade with a slight curve- a beautiful sight. He fixed the broken handle and sewed together a new sleeve to slip over it, something with a firmer and more comfortable grip. 

Turning it around in his hands, James bites his lip thoughtfully to find he’s fighting back a smile.

He runs his thumb over the name stitched into the handle. 

Something warm spreads across his chest, seeping down and tightening around his gut. 

Did he really want to do this?

It’s risky. 

Stuff like this is always risky but- but perhaps he can get away with it.

Yes, he thinks. He wants to do this. James didn’t spend days working on this gift only to back out now.

He just wouldn’t say anything, absolutely nothing.

All James needs now is a box. 

Perhaps Willy has one he could use.


	5. [you'll understand soon enough]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 05: Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I ever told you guys how much I dislike Lilly...?

_Omar’s gone._

_He’s alone._

_It’s snowing. _

_A strange phenomenon, given that he’s still here, still trapped within the confines of his cell._

_As he lay there flat on his back, Aasim watches the dirty flakes fall and land upon his already chilled skin. It’s so cold- fuck, he can barely move his fingers. They’re stiff, hardened down to the bone. It’s a real possibility that if he were to bend them, they might snap off. _

_He cranks his neck back and forth, squinting through the dark in hopes of seeing Omar’s silhouette, or maybe even Violet’s. No, no, she’s in the other cell. Unless they switched- shit. _

_The walls are skewed, wobbly within the shadows. _

_There are footsteps. _

_Crunching snow._

_Muffled voices._

_The cell door swings open, and the snow falls harder._

_He can barely breathe. _

_Snow clings and seeps into his cheeks, his eyes, his neck- it surrounds him, engulfs his body-_

_No-_

_Shit, what-?_

_Aasim bolts up, yelping in pain as the bare flesh of his back stuck to the cold surface, clinging on and ripping it away with the movement. _

_Warmth dribbles down, and he can fucking smell it. _

_Blood melts the snow._

_The mist of his breath clouds around him as he gasps out, staring down at his shriveled, purple hands. With only his underwear preventing full exposure, the snow piles up over his bare legs and along his torso and to say he’s mortified is a severe understatement._

_Fuck, it’s-_

_“Good, you’re awake.”  
_

_The robotic static of a voice shoots pure liquid ice through his veins and straight into his humming heart. Aasim meets her eyes, and with every ounce of his remaining strength, he pushes himself away. Crawling and kicking through the snow, there’s nowhere to go, so he finds a corner and does his best to cover himself from Lilly’s blackened stare. _

_She’s twitching from where she stands in the doorway, her appearance so surreal that she may just be a shadow, something his eyes made up to trick him. _

_“You’re the only one left.”   
_

_She takes a step closer. _

_Aasim curls in on himself, violently shivering and holding his knees, murmuring silent pleas. _

_“Your friends are dead.”  
_

_The snow falls harder and harder until it’s hail pounding down and Aasim has never felt so small, so exposed or so- so-_

_“Didn’t take much,” Lilly sneers. “Boom!”   
_

_Aasim flinches, finally daring to look at her. _

_“But not you,” she shakes her head, eyes unblinking and smile too wide and crooked for her face. “You’ll be my best soldier and when you see them-”   
_

_She’s gone. _

_There’s only the sound of hail beating down on the wood. _

_Until her breath hits his ear. _

_“When you see their bodies, you’ll understand.”  
_

_He swings his arms, trying to ignore the blistering pain shooting through the limbs. She’s not there, but her breath is and it’s deep and cold and dead and-_

_“You’ll understand soon enough.”  
_

_Fuck-_

Fuck-

Aasim stares up the ceiling, too afraid to dare move. 

His heart hurts, pounding far too hard for someone who’s lying in bed and just waking up. 

“Shit,” he croaks out, wincing at his own voice. He clears his throat and wipes at his damp brow before reaching over and switching on his flashlight, pointing at the ceiling to illuminate the room.

He’s alone.

Whether that’s a good thing or not, he doesn’t know. 

At least it’s still the middle of summer, and not snowing inside his room. 

Aasim pats down his chest, relieved to find his sweater, as well as the sweats and heavy socks on his person. 

God, he fucking hates the snow, and he hates nights like this. 

With a heavy sigh, Aasim kicks off the comforter and moves over to his desk, pulling out his dream journal and jotting down everything he remembers, even the things he wished he’d forgotten. 


	6. [you can stay if you want to]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 06: Sick in Bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized that this is the first time I’ve ever written something with Brody as a main character and I’m also quickly realizing that I need to brush up on her character because oof.

“You’re burning up.”

“And you’re fucking freezing.”

Brody chuckles, removing her hand from Violet’s forehead, but not before brushing back her bangs back. 

Violet pretends to be annoyed. 

Brody stands from the bed, moving over to the dresser to finish preparing the green tea Ruby found, making sure to squeeze in a little bit of crystallized honey. This is supposed to make Violet’s throat feel better and maybe even relieve her headache. Again, she’s going off what Ruby suggested. 

Violet eyes the tea with distaste. 

“Am I gonna have to force it down your gullet?”

“I’d like to see you try,” Violet snaps back, though without much heart behind it. They both know that even if Violet weren’t sick, Brody wouldn’t have any trouble making her drink or eat something. It’s that thought that makes her thankful Brody was decent rather than some schoolyard bully who sat on their victims and made them eat dirt and worms. 

“C’mon,” Brody holds up the mug. “I know your throat’s killin’ you. I added extra honey, so it should be pretty sweet.” 

She’s right. Violet’s throat is raw, like if a cat somehow clawed the tender flesh all the way down to her stomach. No matter how much she swallowed, moisture didn’t cling and it’s painful. 

Violet takes a sip, grimacing at the heat as it coats her throat. 

“There ya go,” Brody smiles. “Do you need any more aspirin? How’s your head?”

It’s pounding hard at her temples and aching along the back. 

“Fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Violet takes a bigger gulp, sighing. She finds herself looking to the door again. It’s wide open for anyone to come in and check on her, like Ruby. 

Or Louis, who took it upon himself to check on her every few hours with a book of shitty jokes he found in the library. 

_“What kind of tree grows in your hand?”  
_

_“What?”  
_

_“A palm tree.”  
_

_“Get out.”_

Despite the stupid jokes, Violet did enjoy his company just as she enjoyed Brody’s. They seemed to be the only ones- aside from Ruby, of course- who weren’t afraid to get close to her out of fear that they might catch what she had. Mitch already did, and from what she heard, he’s been nothing but a big bitch about it. According to Ruby, Willy’s the only one hanging around him. 

That being said, she did assume- well, she hoped that Minnie would at least peek in to check on her. 

“See? Not so bad,” Brody says. “I make the meanest cup of tea known to man. It’ll knock that cold right outta you.”

Violet snorts into the cup as she finishes it off. “Yeah, only you know how to boil water and throw a tea bag in.”

“And add honey.”

“Right, honey, the tricky part.”

“The trickiest,” Brody laughs, knocking Violet’s shoulder. “C’mon, Vi, least pretend to laugh with me.”

“Ha,” Violet rolls her eyes, looking to the door again. “Hey, uh...” 

“What?”

“...Have you seen Minnie? I haven’t talked to her since yesterday.”

“She and Lou are in the music room,” Brody says, taking the empty mug away and setting it back on the dresser. “They’re workin’ on a song together, I guess. That’s what Sophie told me, anyway.”

“Oh.”

It’s not that she’s jealous, because that’s stupid. She had no reason to be jealous, but maybe she was a little... disappointed? Confused? 

Sure, she’s sick, but when Minnie caught something last year, Violet checked on her frequently, brought her tea, and stayed when the others were too scared of getting sick. 

It’s okay, though. Really, it’s okay. She gets it- Minnie doesn’t want to get sick after how bad it got last year. Can’t blame her for that.

“Want me to tell her you wanna see her?”

“No! No, it’s okay. I was just,” Violet sighs, “wondering.” 

“Maybe they’re writing you a song,” Brody suggests, and Violet almost wants to smack her. “A ‘get well soon’ song!” 

“Doubt it.”

“You don’t know.”

No, she doesn’t, but really, she does. 

"Maybe she’ll pop in after they’re done?”

“Maybe.”

“’Til then I can stay,” Brody smiles. “If ya want.”

“Aren’t you scared of getting sick?”

Brody shrugs a shoulder. “I’ll risk it. Just don’t go wipin’ your snot all over me.”

Violet smiles, glancing away. 

“No promises.”

Brody hits her with a pillow, not hard but enough to get a laugh out of her. 

“So?”

“Alright,” Violet grins. “You can stay if you want to.”

“I do want to,” Brody says firmly, flopping down on the bed next to Violet’s legs, lifting them up.

“Hey!”

“There we go!” Brody scoots over the bed until her back is against the wall, Violet’s laying over hers to form a cross. “Oh, shit, can you hand me my book?” 

Still confused by their new positions, Violet does as she asks and grabs the book from the edge of her dresser. 

“Let me know if you start feelin’ sleepy, okay?” 

“Okay?”

Brody opens up the book and starts at the beginning, reading aloud to Violet with her best narration. She even gives the characters their own individual voices, sometimes having to pause and remember which voice she assigned to who. 

It crossed Violet’s mind that that was cute, but thought nothing more on it.

Instead, she rested with her head against the comfortable pillow and listened to this brilliant and colorful story of pirates and hidden treasure, all while wondering when Minnie would come to talk to her again. 


	7. [talk to me]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 07: Hunting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t have any free time today, but I refuse to miss a day of this challenge and break my streak, so here’s something quick with very little proofreading because I’ve got 20 minutes so I apologize but gotta go fast

She’s pissed.

Louis doesn’t even have to see her face to know it.

Violet walks ahead of him now with a fist clenching her bow tight enough to turn her knuckles white, shoulders hunched but stiff, and boots purposely kicking at every stone they come across. 

He hadn’t even really said anything, having only asked, “Can we talk about what happened with Clem?”

Violet’s silence and dark scowl were a definite “no.” 

“Vi,” he tries. “Wait up.”

He rushes back to her side easily, keeping up when she pointedly tries to get back ahead. 

It’s been a few months since the chaos of their escape from the delta, and Violet hasn’t been outside the walls since then. Louis figured that if he took her hunting, just the two of them, that maybe she’d enjoy the fresh air and scenery and would be more willing to open up to him. 

That didn’t seem to be the case, though. 

“Talk to me.”

“Fuck off.”

“No,” he sighs. “Usually I would but c’mon-” he touches her arm, coming to a stop. She jerks away, but stops with him, frowning down at the dirt walkway. 

“Listen,” he says after a moment of silence, his voice so soft and kind that Violet actually looks up at him. He sees something glisten in those green eyes before she glances away. “I’m glad you’re out here with me and I know you don’t want to talk about this, but I want to understand. I really, _really_ do, but I can’t unless you talk to me.” 

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Vi...”

“There_ isn’t_,” she insists. “It’s over. Let’s just go-”

“Clem asked me how you’re doing,” he interrupts. “With everything, I mean.”

Her reaction is immediate. 

"She’s worried about you, and so am I-”

Violet walks away from him without a word. 

Fuck. 

“Violet!”

_“Don’t._” 

“Then don’t walk away from me!”

“Louis, you dragged me out here to _hunt_, not to talk about our feelings and shit. I’m going this way, you go check the traps.”

With that, she’s getting away from him as fast as she can. 

Shit.

Louis sighs. 

He came off too strong. Perhaps he should’ve started with lighter conversation rather than jumping straight into it. 

It’s okay, he decides. She’s not ready and he shouldn’t force it out of her, but Louis’ determination to bring Violet back out of those shadows she hid in wouldn’t ever go away. 

One day, Violet would forgive him for what happened on the delta. She’d forgive Clementine and they’d work through all the bullshit together and go back to being friends.

Violet just needed time. 


	8. [he'll grow on you]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day o8: Walkers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two are the definition of love at first sight. Sort of. Kind of. A little bit. Maybe. Not really. Not at all.

The low gurgles and moans of walkers are too close for his liking. 

Mitch’s fingers twitch, tense and hovering over the knife attached to his hip. Narrow eyes search through the dark trees, scowling at the passing walkers and silhouette of the delta’s ship. In the distance, a woman’s voice barks orders that are followed by a single shot and the thump of a body. 

Fuckers are well prepared, but so are they. 

The stench of rotten flesh hits his nose as Clementine drags a fallen walker to the group. 

Ruby sighs from beside him, saying, “Well, I guess we’re really doin’ this.” 

“Only the team blending in with the walkers need to cover themselves.”

Mitch steals a glance at Louis, who’s gazing down at the walker with a distasteful look as if he’s already going to hurl. 

Mitch had offered to go with Clementine and AJ, figuring that he’d be the best to tag along given that he created the bomb they’re planting. However, Clementine already had her heart set on taking Louis, much to his- and Louis’- confusion. 

He didn’t question her, though. She knows what she’s doing, and if she trusts Louis with the bomb, then fuck, so did he. He went as far as to go over everything in grave detail to Louis, who stood there nodding and mumbling several “okay”’s before Mitch finally grabbed his shoulder and told him, “Dude, you’re not gonna blow yourself up. You got this.” 

Whether that actually made him feel better or not, Mitch didn’t know. 

The group awkwardly glances around at each other, a heavy silence weighing in on them because holy shit, this moment is finally here. They’re going to infiltrate that motherfucking boat and blow it to hell and back. He can hardly wait to see Lilly and her fuckhead crew rain from the sky. 

They just needed that guy- the one Clementine said could help them sneak on-

“He’s here!”

A presence shadows over his back, so Mitch turns around and is face to face with one ugly ass walker. 

“Jesus fucking CHRIST-!”

He whips around so fast that he thinks he might’ve almost knocked Ruby over. The walker stumbles back, dark eyes wide with shock as Mitch yanks his knife out, only for Clementine to grab his arm. 

“Mitch,_ shh_!” 

“U-uh-” The walker takes another step back, and it finally registers that it’s not a walker, it’s the dude Clementine was talking about. 

Clementine yanks the knife out of Mitch’s hand before he can protest, scolding him with, “Damn it, Mitch!”

“I-I’m sorry,” the guy apologizes quietly, still staring at Mitch. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

He didn’t mean to scare him? Yeah, because everyone goes around wearing walker skin without any intention in making people almost shit themselves. 

“What the fuck, dude!” Mitch says in a loud whisper. “Don’t just sneak up on us like that. I could’ve,” he snatches his knife back and waves it around to make his point, “like, stabbed you or something!”

Everyone else is looking at the guy, all with unsure faces. 

Clementine elbows him with a silent “_you behave_” glare before her eyes land upon James, softening as she approaches him. 

“Guys, this is James.”

“He’s my friend,” AJ adds with a beaming grin, stepping up to him, too. 

James awkwardly looks around the group before staring right at Mitch, blinking fast from beneath his mask. 

What, is he sizing him up or something? Seeing if he’s a threat? 

Mitch glares back. 

“He’s, uh....” Tenn trails off.

“So _cool_!” 

What?

“How do you get the skin like that?” Willy asks, getting way too close to this stranger and clearly making him uncomfortable, given that he tears his gaze away from Mitch to stare down at the boy, panic blooming in his pupils. 

Before he can think, Mitch grabs the back of Willy’s jacket and pulls, earning a surprised “oof!” from him before stepping in front of him. 

“Too close,” Mitch tells him. 

“What? I was just curious!” Willy complains. “And I wanted to try it on.”

“Volume, Willy,” Clementine says. 

Willy goes to speak, but then promptly shuts his mouth.

“Right, sorry, I uh, didn’t mean to be weird or anything,” Willy sighs. “And, hey, I’m sorry I almost shot you that one time. Your mask looks so real!” 

It does look real and Mitch hates it. It’s... gross and uncomfortable.

“Functional and fashionable,” Louis grins. “I’ll take two.” 

James laughs. Of course, he does. 

“Funny.” 

Folding his arms over his chest, Mitch takes a challenging step towards him, his attention returning forward. 

“So, you’re the dude that’s gonna help us sneak in there, huh?”

“I’m going to try,” James nods. “I-”

“Geez, take that thing off.”

“What?”

“Mitch,” Clementine warns. 

“Hey, I can’t take him seriously looking like that. Besides, I wanna see who you’re trusting here.”

“Yeah, take it off!” Willy adds, excitement glowing in his attempted whisper. 

James glances at Clementine, who returns the look with an apologetic one. When he looks forward again, Mitch is surprised to see something challenging mirroring his own. It’s a shared stare- or rather, glare- that they hold before he shrugs slightly, reaching behind his head to loosen the ties before slipping it off.

Dark hair falls over James’ face and dark eyes before he brushes it back, and Mitch can see his face. 

He can see him perfectly. 

“...Nevermind. Put it back on.”

A hand smacks the back of his head. 

“_Mitchell_!” Ruby hisses. “Don’t be rude! Where are your manners?”

“Left ‘em back at the school,” Mitch snaps back. 

“Don’t mind him,” Louis tells James, who’s the glaring one now. “He’ll grow on you.” 

“Somehow I doubt that.”

_What?_

Mitch is about to unload on this fucker but then growls and moans grow louder, closer. 

"Clementine,” James turns his back to him, fully facing away. “Could I speak to you alone? For a moment?”

“Good idea,” Clementine nods. “Hold tight.”

Mitch rolls his eyes, scoffing, which earns him another elbow to his side, this time courtesy of Ruby. As he watches James and Clementine walk away, several thoughts cross Mitch’s mind. 

The one that sticks out the most is _fuck that guy. _


	9. [he danced perfectly]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 09: Dancing/Singing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More rusim? More rusim. 
> 
> Honestly, this is the first prompt that kind of stumped me, which is weird because you’d think that I could come up with something relating to Louis or whatever, but then I thought about this and rolled with it because I refuse to miss a day.

_“So, you all are going to just watch us dance? I mean, none of you are going to join in the fun?”  
_

_For a moment, no one said anything. _

_Then, Aasim stepped forward. _

_“Uh, y’know, he’s right,” he says. “Just because it’s their wedding, that doesn’t mean they should be the only ones dancing.” _

_Before she knew it, he was there beside her, holding out his hand and doing his best to smile and maintain eye contact. _

_“Ruby, would you- uhm, do you want to dance with me?”  
_

It’s been two months since the wedding. 

_“Thought you didn’t dance.”  
_

_“Oh, uh, did I say that? I meant that I **do** dance, just poorly. Super poorly.”  
_

Ruby can’t believe that much time has passed. 

_“Yer that bad, huh?” Ruby laughs, slipping her hand into his. “I think I’ll hafta be the judge of that.”   
_

He didn’t dance poorly. 

He danced perfectly. 

Of all the dances Ruby had that night- Louis, Clementine, Violet, and good lord, _Mitch_\- those dances with Aasim were her favorite. She can’t remember how many times they ended up together, how many songs they swung and swayed to, or what exactly they talked about the whole time.

What she does remember is the final song of that night, the one where she and Aasim looked at each other and smiled, like it was some sort of silent agreement. 

The more Ruby thinks about it, the more she wishes she could return to that night and dance with him again. 

Not that she’d ever tell him that, of course, no matter how much she wanted to. 


	10. [the sparrow with the bloody broken wing]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 10: Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know what it is but I have been super into writing jamitch lately and I will not apologize for it. 
> 
> Also, Mitch is SUCH a dingdong sometimes, I swear...

If Mitch had known that Aasim and James switched hunting schedules for today, he would’ve switched, too. 

However, he didn’t learn this until he was stuck waiting at the gates, bow in hand when James approached him. 

At first, he thought the guy was leaving to go do whatever he does in these woods, but then James stopped before him and asked if he was ready to go. 

It seems that Aasim ditched him to go help Ruby and Omar tidy up the kitchen. 

Figures. 

Now he’s stuck with James and his fucking walker-skinned face. 

It’s not exactly Mitch’s ideal hunting trip. 

Not only have they not caught anything, but Mitch has almost stabbed his companion _twice_ because of that stupid mask. He doesn’t care how awe-struck Willy is about it- and about James in general- it’s gross and realistic and looking at it now makes him anxious as if an actual walker is coming to eat his face and he _doesn’t fucking like it. _

Luckily, James learned quickly to speak up every time Mitch turns around to face him. Plus, he’s incredibly quick and handles a knife fairly well himself.

Okay, fine, that’s an understatement. Credit where credit is due, the dude can wield two knives and take down walkers with impeccable speed and force without breaking a sweat. He saw that for himself when they got stuck in the shitty cave after they got separated from the others and found Tenn. 

James must’ve killed about twenty of them, at least, the fucking show-off. 

“Mitch?”

“Hm?” Mitch doesn’t spare a glance from his work on setting up another trap, assuming the oncoming footsteps belong to James as he tells himself not to freak out when he sees his face. 

“Uh-uhm-”

What the hell is that?

It’s a strange yet familiar noise, something high pitched but muffled. When Mitch cranks his neck up to look, he’s first greeted by James’ face. His actual face, the one he has when he’s not wearing a walker’s, and it’s twisted in concern with dark eyes concentrated on his cupped hands. 

Something yellow and sharp pokes out between his fingers, followed by a tuff of brown and black, beady eyes. 

What the- 

“I found him,” James explains. “He’s hurt.”

It’s a bird. A baby with barely any real feathers and a pissed-off expression that matches the squawks escaping its beak. There’s darkness caked to its side, still wet and smearing across James’ palm. From the looks of it, there’s something wrong with its wing. It’s broken or split open or something. 

Probably got cocky and fell out of its nest, like what most baby birds’ll do when Mama isn’t around. 

“Dude, put it down,” Mitch sighs. “It’s probably got some sort of disease or something.”

A disease? Alright, that was stupid to say. 

The dude wears _walker skin_. At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised if James was immune to every disease known to man given that he’s spent the end of the world inhaling decayed flesh. That can’t be good for your health but maybe it built up his immune system somehow. 

James ignores him, still gazing down at the tiny bird cupped in his hands. Its chirp grows weaker but remains panicked as it pathetically tries to escape. 

“It’s okay,” James murmurs, lightly swiping his thumb over the bird’s head. It stops briefly before growing even louder, ruffling its feathers and shaking its wing. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Mitch pays it a glance, squinting to study the features on its petite face. 

Given the taupe color of feathers and bright yellow beak, his first guess is it’s a sparrow, but he’s not sure. Maybe he’d look it up in that old bird book he keeps in his desk if he remembers. He hasn’t touched that thing in years, not since Justin was alive. 

“He’s dying...” James whispers, pulling the bird closer to his chest, turning to him again, waiting, expecting him to say something. 

Mitch shrugs a shoulder. 

“It’s too little to eat.”

He’s joking but earns himself a glare anyway. 

“He’s a _baby_.”

“Yeah, and?”

James rolls his eyes. He actually just rolled his eyes at him. For a split second, a vision of himself slapping the bird out of James’ hands crosses his mind, but he doesn’t actually do it. That would absolutely kill the damn bird and that would end with him knocked flat on his ass.

The glare softens when the bird goes silent, body contracting with every breath as its eyes flutter shut. 

When James walks away, Mitch follows him to an unoccupied tree where he sits down beside it. 

“One of the traps got a rabbit over there,” James motions behind him. “Will you go take care of it, please?”

Mitch wants to scream at him and his pitiful face. 

“Fine.”

A full-grown rabbit struggles in the air, growing still upon Mitch’s approach. He doesn’t think about it, he just takes care of it because the others are counting on them to do their part and bring back something to eat. 

Kneeling down with the limp rabbit in his bag, Mitch rubs at his eyes and sighs. Glancing back at James, he can see him mumbling something to the bird- the fucking bird. 

The sparrow with a bloody, broken wing. The sparrow that’s going to die in James’ hands if he doesn’t just ditch it. Why he feels he needs to coddle it when it’s just- it’s just-

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He could just ditch him, leave James to do whatever and go back by himself and tell everyone the woods were dry. Then he could throw that bird book away and burn it.

Shit, that’s dramatic.

What’s wrong with him? He’s not going to burn his bird book, Justin gave that to him-

“Fuck.” 

The bird is dead when Mitch comes back. 

James isn’t crying, he isn’t speaking, and he isn’t doing anything but sitting there, holding it in his hands with an unreadable face. 

He wants to ask him if he’s okay, but that’s stupid. 

“I’m going to bury him.”

Is he fucking-

“It’s a _bird,” _Mitch means for the words to come out harsh, but cringes when they’re soft. “Why bother?”

“He deserves a place to rest.”

They’re silent, and the air is heavy.

“Go back to the school,” James murmurs, carefully placing the bird in front of him. Its eyes are still open. 

Fuck. 

Why is he even surprised? James is the same guy who still refers to walkers as people and feels remorse every time he’s forced to kill one. Of course he’s hung up about a baby sparrow. 

A lifeless, limp, dead-eyed baby sparrow. 

“There’s a shovel in the shack,” Mitch sighs. “Stay here. I’ll go get it.” 

He doesn’t wait around for James to reply, whirling around, dropping his bag and jogging towards the river all while silently cursing himself. 

If he had known that he’d get stuck digging a grave and having a funeral for a baby sparrow with James- goddamn James- right by his side holding said sparrow. 

Once the small hole is dug right by the tree, James gently places the sparrow in, adjusting him so that he’s comfortable. Mitch almost chuckles. 

The sparrow’s dead, that’s all the comfort he needs. That’s what he wants to say, but seeing James crack a sullen smile stops him. 

Together, they lay the baby sparrow to rest. 

“Thank you,” James says, glancing towards him. “I appreciate it.” 

It’s on the tip of Mitch’s tongue, the offer to go back to the school and help him find that bird book, to read the pages about sparrows.

Mitch doesn’t say a thing. 


	11. [can i ask you something?]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 11: Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ngl, I couldn’t think of ANYTHING for this prompt so have some Louis and AJ talking in front of Marlon's grave.

A stick, or a pointy rock, or _something_ digs into his thigh, threatening to break through the barrier of his jeans, but Louis doesn’t both to shift himself away. It doesn’t hurt or anything, but rather he lets whatever it is press into his jeans as a reminder to ground himself. 

If he doesn’t, then he’ll be out here all night just staring into space as his brain runs through every nasty convoluted thought it can muster. Lots of “what if”s and “I should have”’s. 

It’s something he’s never really been able to escape. 

Those thoughts, even now- especially now- are with him every day. 

A moth lands on Marlon’s cross, resting against the A and fluffing its wings. Rosie notices it, perking her head off Louis’ lap with golden eyes fixated on it. Louis drags his fingers over her neck with a small smile. 

“Alert as ever,” he tells her. “Keep an eye on ‘em, might be a grave robber.” 

He tries to laugh, but it falls flat. 

The only thing someone could rob of this grave is Marlon himself. 

Something sours within his stomach. 

He had wanted to bury some of Marlon’s things with him, like both of the Knights chess pieces that belonged to the set they used to play. The Knight was always Marlon’s favorite, and the piece he never failed to lose within the first five turns.

Marlon was the shittiest chess player to ever walk this earth, but he was too smart to see whenever Louis would throw the game so that he could have a win for once. He quit doing that because it would result in another three games because Marlon was stubborn and wanted to win all by himself. 

He never did. 

The moth flutters away when Rosie gives a soft yip, focus now back towards the school. 

AJ stands frozen in place, wide eyes guilty, as if he were caught with his entire arm in a cookie jar. It makes sense- Louis knows that Clementine told AJ he’s not allowed to talk to Louis when he’s visiting Marlon. 

Louis himself never got a say in this rule, but he understood why Clementine would lay something like that down. 

He loves AJ, he truly does, but it’s dishonest to say that he wants to see AJ right after spending time sitting in front of Marlon’s grave. 

Yet another thing he and AJ can’t escape, something that’s always there. 

_“You shot him... he’s dead. You’re a murderer!”  
_

_“What the fuck did you teach this kid?!”_

_“He murdered my fucking friend!”_

Rosie barks again, tail beating down against the dirt as AJ cautiously approaches, eyes averted and fingers pressing together nervously. 

"Hi, Louis,” AJ greets him, stopping before him. 

“Hey, buddy,” Louis grins up at him. “You on patrol?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I left my book out here and- and I saw you.” 

Louis nods, glancing back at the grave. 

“Did you find it? Your book?”

“It’s still on the table.”

“Why don’t you go grab it and I’ll meet you inside. We can read it together.” 

AJ doesn’t immediately respond, still eyeing his shoes as they shift the dirt around. 

“Louis?”

“Yeah?”

“Can... Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, little man.” 

“And you’ll tell the truth?”

Louis eyes Marlon’s grave warily before answering, a lump of dread beginning to form within his chest. 

“Yeah, AJ, I’ll tell the truth.” 

AJ finally meets his eyes, lips parting with the question ready to break free, but he struggles, conflicted on if he really wants to travel this road or not. 

Louis sighs, patting the space beside him. 

AJ hesitates but moves to sit beside him, shifting uncomfortably as the sticks and rocks poke him.

“Ouch,” AJ grumbles. 

From Louis’ other side, Rosie crawls over his lap to lick at AJ’s pouting face, which turns his frown into a small giggle. 

For a moment, it’s comfortable. It’s not weird, and those thoughts and memories- the darker ones that invade where they shouldn’t- aren’t there. 

Louis nudges the small boy, perking a brow and preparing himself for the question AJ’s going ask. 

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” AJ starts, “and I thought about something that I wanted to do but don’t know if I should. If it would be okay if I did it, I mean.” His voice goes quiet. “I don’t want you or Clem to be mad at me.” 

“Unless you’re planning on shaving our heads when we’re asleep, then I think you’ll be okay,” Louis tries to joke. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to write a letter to Marlon.”

A letter? It takes Louis a moment to process what AJ is proposing. 

“You know how Aasim writes everything down?” AJ asks. “I asked him what all he writes, and he told me that he writes about what happened that day and stuff, but he also said that he’ll write notes to everybody.”

“He does?”

Louis tucks that new information away for later. 

“Yeah, I’m not supposed to tell you that,” AJ admits, “but he also said that he once wrote something to his sister and it got me thinking about Marlon.”

Louis doesn’t know what to say, so he nods. AJ moves to his knees, staring up at him. 

“Would it be bad if I wrote Marlon a letter to tell him I’m sorry?”

“I- uh...” 

“Would you hate me if I did?”

“No, no, AJ, I wouldn’t hate you,” Louis says firmly. “If that’s something that you want to do, then... then I think you should.”

“Do you think Clem would be mad?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Really?”

“Really.” 

AJ gazes back at the grave, his hands trembling in his lap. Before Louis can speak, AJ throws himself forward, wrapping his arms around Louis’ neck and holding him. Without a thought, Louis hugs him back. 

“Louis?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

Warmth spreads beneath his lids as his eyes fall shut. 

“I love you, too, buddy.” 


	12. [graffiti]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 12: Unrequited Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I’m writing about Mitch a lot but like... I can’t stop.

“Dude, think you could get off your ass and help me for once?”

Mitch glances up from his comic, thumb marking his place, saying, “Nope.”

That gets him a middle finger. 

“This is your room, too, asshole.”

“My side is clean.”

“Bullshit,” Justin scoffs, eyeing the absolute mess occupying the floor, bed, and desk on Mitch’s side. “I’m not picking up your shit.”

“Then don’t,” Mitch rolls his eyes, returning to finish the page of his comic only for it to be ripped from his grip. “Hey!”

Justin tosses the comic on to the desk where it proceeds to slide off and onto the floor all while he begins scooping up a pile of Mitch’s dirty laundry. 

He then dumps that load right on top of him.

“Seriously?!” Mitch balls up a pair of jeans and chucks it as hard as he can at Justin’s head, smacking him in the side of his face. 

“I’m not fucking around, Mitch! Pick up your shit!”

Something’s off about him today. Usually, he’s just as messy as Mitch is, leaving dirty laundry on the floor, piling books up on his desk, leaving trinkets and weapons anywhere they land. Now he’s zigzagging around the room like a maniac trying to tidy up the place. 

Shit, maybe Ruby cornered him and threatened to break in and clean their room herself again. She’s a brave one to even consider that again, given that she stumbled across some dirty stuff last time. 

Justin better hide his nasty ass porn better this time because Mitch isn’t taking the fall for that one again. One lecture from a flustered Ruby would’ve been whatever, but now he’s got Marlon and some of the other guys asking for his “secret stash” and it’s fucking annoying. 

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Mitch watches Justin pull a box out from under his bed and dump the contents out. Yep, there’s the porn and some other books and boxes that he begins to sort through. 

“You want any of this?” Justin asks. “If not, I’m gonna toss it.”

“You’re gonna toss your mags?” 

“Well, not _those_,” Justin replies, snatching up the disgusting material and tucking them back in the box, “but _these_ I will.” 

He hands him some books; two that are apart of some sci-fi series that looks pretty killer, one all about different insects, a bible, and a book on birds. 

“The bug one’s pretty cool,” Justin says. “There’s a whole chapter on spiders that can catch birds out of trees and eat them.”

Mitch wasn’t ever one for bugs. They’re gross and terrifying.

Birds, however, he does like.

He keeps the two sci-fi novels and the bird book, tossing the bible and bug book back over. He pretends to flip through the bird book and admire the colored photos occupying the page, but his focus is mostly on the determination in Justin’s eyes. 

The more he stares, the more he realizes how clean he looks, which is weird. Ever since the walkers came and shit really went downhill, they were forced to bathe in the cold river and after a while, most of them said fuck it to being squeaky clean all the time. 

There is not a single speck of dirt on his sun-kissed face and the dark mess of curls covering his forehead and neck are shiny and fresh. He’s wearing new clothes, too, ones that he doesn’t recognize. 

It’s a good look for him. 

“So, why the sudden freakout?” Mitch tries to ask casually. “Ruby get a hold of you?”

Justing laughs, shaking his head. “Nah, not Ruby. Hey, uh-” he perks up, an almost timid look crossing over his features. “I got a question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“Okay,” Justin grins. “If you could make out with any of the girls here, who would you do?”

Mitch stiffens, nearly dropping the bird book.

“Uh, what?” 

“_Any_ of the girls!” Justin says. “You can choose one to kiss and they have to kiss you back.”

“None of them,” he shrugs, answering honestly. 

“Dude, it’s the end of the fucking world. Now’s not the time to be picky.”

It’s not that he’s picky- well, maybe he is. Thinking about every girl that lives here at Ericson, not a single one jumps out to him as one he wants to kiss. 

“I’d rather fuck a walker.”

Laughter erupts from Justin, and through his chortle, he asks, “Mitch, dude, are you fucking serious? You’d rather fuck an actual dead, decaying _walker_ than any of the girls?”

Yes, because he doesn’t want to kiss any of the girls. At all. 

“No, shithead, it’s gross.”

“Oh, but fucking a walker wouldn’t be?”

“No, that’d be gross, too.”

“C’mon, you can tell me,” Justin pries. “What about Brody? Or Erin, or Violet, or uh,_ Minnie_?”

“Nope.”

“_Dude_.”

Shit, maybe he’s being _too_ honest. 

That- fuck.

“Uhm, y’know what? Fine,” Mitch adds quickly, causing Justin to smirk. “Any girl?”

“Any girl.” 

The first name that comes to him is Minnie, but he can’t say that, so he says the second. 

“Brody.” 

Justin visibly relaxes, relieved by Mitch's answer. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, she’s hot.”

God fucking- he couldn’t have sounded any less enthusiastic. 

“Why are you even asking, anyway?” Mitch frowns, scratching nervously at his neck until a patch of redness blooms on the skin. 

Justin smiles excitedly, hopping up on the bed with him, far closer than Mitch would’ve liked. 

“What are you doing tonight?”

The question is simple but it still makes Mitch’s stomach churn in a bizarre way. 

“Uh, I don’t know. Nothing, I guess.”

“You don’t have any plans?”

Mitch’s pulse quickens. 

“Am I supposed to?” 

“No, I just- are you gonna be _here_?”

“Uh, yeah? Where else would I go to sleep?”

Justin considers this, stuttering out, “Right, no- yeah, right. That was a stupid question.” 

What the fuck is he saying? What is he_ asking_? Why does he look so nervous? Why are Mitch’s palms beginning to sweat? 

“Do you think maybe you could... Uhm-”

_Do you think I could maybe what?_

“-go sleep somewhere else tonight?”

..._What?_

“What? Why?” 

“I need the room to myself tonight.”

“_Why_?” Mitch asks again. 

“I’m having company, okay? So, can you go sleep in Willy’s room tonight? I know he said he wanted to try being alone at night with his own room, which has been great for us not having to deal with him so much, not gonna lie, but-”

“Wait, wait-” Mitch interrupts, having not really listened to Justin’s ramblings. “Who the fuck are you bringing here?”

A smile spreads across his full lips and in a sing-song voice, he answers, “Minnie.” 

Minnie? What the fuck- _why_ the fuck is Minnie spending the night in their room? There’s no way in hell she agreed to something like that!

“Why?”

“I’m finally going for it, asshole! God, do I need to explain everything to you?” 

He’s going for it? A lump of panicked dread falls from his throat and soars down into his stomach. 

“I asked her to come here tonight to help me with a ‘secret project,’ right? So, when she gets here, the room’s gonna be super clean and I’m gonna light some candles and then- and then I’m gonna ask her to teach me to _dance_. Romantic, right?”

Mitch’s mouth goes dry. 

"And we’ll be dancing and laughing and shit, and then I’ll go in for the kill and kiss her.”

“Kiss her?”

“Yeah, idiot, listen.” 

“You’re just gonna kiss her? Don’t you have to, like, ask?”

Justin snorts. “Dude, asking isn’t romantic.”

It’s not? 

Well, fuck, not that he knows anything about romance. It’s the one subject Mitch actively refuses to explore. 

Justin continues, “Then, after I give her the kiss of her life, I’ll ask her to be my girlfriend.”

He... he’s really thought this whole thing out. 

He’s had this infatuation with Minnie for weeks now, so he’s had plenty of time to think about. Justin makes it his number one priority to spend as much time with Minnie as he can, always shoving Sophie or Violet out of the way to hog all her attention, or ditching Mitch to do whatever she wanted him to, or constantly making fun of Louis so that Minnie would stop hanging around him. 

He actually went as far as to carve a bunch of nasty shit into Louis’ piano.

Yeah, because _that’s_ the way to get someone’s attention and affection: be an asshole. Mitch may not know shit about this stuff, but somehow, he knows that’s not the right approach.

And Louis was so devastated about that, too...

"And for me to do all that,” Justin points at him, “_you_ need to be gone tonight.” 

No.

No, no, no. 

_No. _

It’s out before Mitch can even think, “Dumbass, she doesn’t even like you.” 

_Fuck. _

Justin’s taken back by the harshness but returns it what a deep glare. 

“Fuck you, she does like me! She laughs at my jokes and she’s always touching my arm!”

That’s because Minnie’s a touchy person. She touches _everyone_. Mitch once had to snap at her for constantly trying to touch and fix his hair. 

“Uh-” Mitch panics. “Yeah, but everyone knows that she likes Louis.” 

It’s such a huge ass lie, holy shit, but it’s the first one to come across his mind. 

“Oh, fuck off,” Justin spits. “She does not!”

“Yes, she does, why do you think they’re always hanging out in the music room? Hell, they’re probably making out in there right now.” 

“Louis is the worst, though!”

“Apparently not since Minnie’s sucking face with him instead of you.” 

“Why are you being such an asshole?” Justin snaps, standing from the bed to glare down at him. “They aren’t together! We’d know if they were because Louis is an obnoxious idiot who can’t keep anything to himself.” 

“Y’know what? You’re right!” Mitch stands too, voice growing louder with every word, “we _would_ know if they were together because Minnie’s also an attention whore and wouldn’t miss an opportunity-”

Justin shoves him, Mitch’s back hitting the top bunk of the bed, his head bouncing off the bar. Justin’s fists remain tangled in the collar, and he’s close, right up in Mitch’s face. 

"What’s your problem?” 

His problem? 

Fuck, he... he doesn’t even_ know!_

All he can focus on is how Justin’s nose is almost touching his. 

Mitch pushes him back hard enough for him to trip over a book and crash against the ground. 

“Ow! Fuck!” 

Mitch still, staring down at the wincing boy with wide eyes where he’s met with a glare. 

They don’t say anything, so Mitch bends down to grab the bird book and his bag. Without a word, Mitch quickly shoves some clothes into it and leaves, clutching the book against his chest, the pounding of his heart hot, rapid and deafening. 

Some of the others are walking around, and when he passes by the music room, he can hear Minnie singing and Louis’ playing. Someone- Violet, he thinks- makes a comment about the song, but Mitch doesn’t pay much attention. He considers joining them and warning Minnie about what she’s walking into tonight, but doesn’t. 

Let Justin make a fucking fool of himself. 

Fuck him, anyway. 

He’s...

Mitch turns down the hall right outside the music room and drops his bag. 

With his trusty pocket knife in hand, Mitch begins to carve.

**JUSTIN FUCKED A WALKER**

He spends the rest of the afternoon making sure that no matter what hallway you’re in, this information is known. 


	13. [piano key]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 13: Hug

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soft clouis hugging and smooching? Sign me up.

“What’cha workin’ on?” 

Louis’ arms wrap around her shoulders as he rests his chin on the top of her head, peering down at the outline of the school she had finished drawing out against the headmaster’s desk. 

“Deciding where we should build the rabbit pen,” Clementine hums. “Aasim’s right, the greenhouse is our best bet.”

“It’s big enough,” Louis agrees. “Think we got enough fencing?” 

“If not, Mitch’ll have to figure something out.”

Clementine leans back into him, dropping her pen on the desk to caress his forearms, taking one of his hands in hers and kissing his wrist. 

“You gonna help?” 

“Of course,” he says lightly. “Aasim and I will bring the rabbits back, tell them all about their new home and about all the baby-making they get to do.”

“Oh yeah?” Clementine laughs, rolling her eyes. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll leave out the part where we wait for their babies to grow up big and strong so we can eat them. That might turn them off to the idea.” 

Louis lets her go, moving around to lean against the desk with a smirk and a cocked brow. His eyes are warm, glistening with a hidden excitement that leaves Clementine curious.

“What?” she asks. 

“Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“I have a surprise for you.”

“Is that so?” Clementine grins. 

Sometimes, Louis is too cute for his own good. The last time he did this, he swooped in and kissed her, and it indeed was a surprise. This time, however, she prepares herself, fingers twitching to reach over and grab his jacket to pull him down to her. 

She plays along, shutting her eyes. 

“Okay.” 

“Hold out your hand.”

That one’s new, but she does it anyway. 

After a moment, something rough sits in her palm. 

She opens her eyes to find a small sack, dark brown with a string tied around it. There’s something inside, small but long. 

“Go ahead,” he encourages her with a toothy grin, gripping the openings of his jacket and straightening it out. 

From inside, she pulls out a necklace. 

A small piano key hangs at the end, and when she inspects it closer, she can see that three names occupy the sides: _Clementine, AJ, Louis_.

“Lou,” she covers her mouth and looks to him. “Did you make this?”

“Carved it with my own two hands,” he nods, holding his hand out. With the necklace in hand, he moves behind her and fastens it around her neck. “It’s the C key, y’know, for Clementine, and I thought you might like it if AJ’s name was on it, too. And mine.” 

Once it’s secure and falls over her chest, Clementine turns around to slip her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest, murmuring, “Thank you, Louis, I love it.” 

He holds her back, his embrace sending waves of warmth crashing through her. His heartbeat vibrates against her cheek, faster than normal. 

“You’re welcome,” his words come out muffled against her hair. 

Clementine only pulls away from the hug to grasp the back of his neck and bring him down into a liplock. It’s a slow kiss, one that she can feel all throughout her body from the tingling in her toes to the back of her head where Louis tangles his fingers in her hair, tipping her back to deepen the kiss. Her hip hits against the desk as he presses closer-

“Clem! Have you seen Mitch!? I can’t find him anywhere-” 

Willy bursts into the office, loud and without any thought. 

Louis is gone from her grasp, wiping at his mouth and coughing into his sleeve. Clementine, disoriented by the sudden pull away from Louis and the booming slam of the door hitting the wall, searches around until she finds Willy's horrified face. 

“OH NO!” Willy exclaims, whirling around with his hands thrown over his eyes. 

“Jesus, Willy-!” Clementine curses as Louis tries to laugh. 

“Oh, hah, we were just- just, uh-... I don’t know what we were doing.”

“Louis!”

“I didn’t see anything! Nothing!” Willy shakes his head violently, already heading out the door. “Mitch isn’t here! I’ll look somewhere else far far away!” 

Before he’s out the door, Clementine snaps, “Knock next time, Willy!” 

“Knock next time! Got it! Can do!” 

With that, Willy rushes away, leaving Louis and Clementine alone in the office, both with flushed faces and a need to get back to the dorms. 


	14. [you've ruined me]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 14: Night Sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clouis being soft in the moonlight? It’s more likely than you think.

The universe is strange. 

The dead are up and walking among the living, eating the living and turning them into more of the dead, and yet with the chaos that has consumed the earth, the night sky remains the same. 

The moon still changes with every passing night, and the stars still form constellations around it. Summer, spring, fall, winter- it doesn’t matter. Even when the cold miserable winter rolls around with thick clouds obscuring such things, they’re still there. 

The dead are here with the living and the universe couldn’t care less. 

It’s almost funny, Louis thinks, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his temple against the window frame. The dresser wasn’t the most comfortable place for him to sit, but he could get a full view of the inky sky from here. 

When he was a kid, he wanted a skylight in his bedroom so that he could fall asleep under those stars, so that he could watch rain and snow fall down upon him without actually feeling their chilling effects. To feel the sun’s warmth bleed in and illuminate his room, and to count how many birds and airplanes he saw fly over. 

“Hey,” Clementine’s soft voice startles him. She enters their room, and through the darkness, he can see the concern seeping through her gaze. “Can’t sleep?”

Louis shakes his head, then grins. 

“It seems lately I’m having trouble sleeping alone,” he says. “You’ve ruined me.”

That makes her smile, head tilting forward to hide the timid expression. 

As she approaches him, her apology carries a bit of tease. 

“I’m sorry.”

“As you should be.”

“Maybe I can make it up to you.” 

Louis taps a finger to his chin in mock deep thought. 

“Hmmm... Do all my chores for a month and we’ll call it even.”

Clementine rolls her eyes, snatching the hat off her head to hit his shoulder. 

“Fine! Two months, then!”

“Louis!” 

He chuckles, seizing the hat and tossing it over onto AJ’s empty bed. 

He loves her hat, he truly does, even if he still has no idea what the D stands for, but he also loves it when Clementine doesn’t wear it. Her mess of curls have gotten longer, long enough for him to braid them for her.

Louis stretches out his cramped legs, wincing slightly as the ache before swinging them over the edge, remaining there with his feet dangling and his hand outstretched towards her. 

Clementine takes it, pulling him forward and off the dresser. 

Her fingers lace with his as she leans up to kiss the scar on his chin, and the words drum in his head over and over, quick and hard like a second heartbeat. 

_I love you. I love you. I love you, Clementine, you’ve ruined me. I love you._

They tickle his tongue, demanding to be spoken. 

Maybe it’s the way she glows in the moonlight, or maybe it’s the way she’s gazing up at him like he’s the most desirable thing her eyes have ever laid upon, or maybe it’s the moment of peace within this universe of chaos, or maybe it’s a concoction of all those things and more, but he _can’t. _

_I love you. I love you. _

It’s too soon. 

So, he kisses her instead and hopes that somehow, someway, she knows. 


	15. [their best song yet]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 15: Flowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another prompt I had no idea what to write for and I had only 20 minutes to finish it [because real-life means real work all day so... that’s great-] so here’s some more sick Violet.

“There!” Brody rests her hands on her hips, a triumphant grin adorning her lips. “That’ll add some life to this place!”

“There’s plenty of life,” Violet’s words are muffled by her pillow. “Like the dying life right here.”

“You’re not dying,” Brody laughs. “And you didn’t even look to see what I brought ya!” 

Lifting her head from the pillow, Violet winces at the light invading through the slit in the curtains. Blobs of black occupy most of her vision, along with Brody’s blurred grinning face. 

God, everything hurts. 

Rubbing away the drear, she spots a vase filled with pretty purple and yellow flowers, and now that Brody took it upon herself to open Violet’s window, the breeze wafts the fresh floral scent throughout the room. 

Most days, this would be pleasant, but this isn’t most days because Violet’s dying in bed with the worst stuffy nose and head cold she’s ever experienced. 

“They’re flowers,” Brody points out, assuming that Violet doesn’t comprehend what she’s seeing, which is fair. This illness has fucked with her head a couple of times this week- she mistook Louis for Omar and he’s yet to let her live it down. 

“Yeah, I can see that,” Violet sighs, cringing as she rolls herself over. Everything aches, everything’s sore, and everything’s stiff. Hands grab at her shoulders to help her lay on her back and she finds Brody looking down at her with a kind, sympathetic smile. 

“Here, sit up a bit.”

Violet does as she’s told and Brody pushes an extra pillow beneath her, giving her more leverage to see around the room. 

“I’m gonna make ya some more tea,” Brody says, pressing the back of her cool hand to Violet’s burning cheek. “Feel like ya could use it.” 

“Thanks,” Violet mumbles, trying not to look too relieved. She can’t let Brody know how much she’s grown to love and depend on that damn tea. It’s one of the few things she has to look forward to while being quarantined in here. 

“Minnie said she came to see ya,” Brody mentions, mixing in a spoonful of honey before putting two tea bags in. 

“Yeah, she did.”

For about a minute. 

Sort of.

Minnie popped her head in this morning to ask how she was feeling, to which Violet turned into a total sap and said, “Better seeing you,” which made Minnie smile.

However, it must've not been enough, since Minnie didn’t say anything remotely sappy back, rather, “When you’re feeling better, you gotta hear this song that Lou and I are working on. I think it’s our best one yet. I can’t wait for everyone to hear it!”

Then, she left. 

“I guess she and Lou are working on a song.”

“Oh, yeah,” Brody nods vigorously, handing Violet the steaming cup of tea. “It’s real pretty, too, nothin’ what I’d ever expect outta Louis. They played a bit for me yesterday- y’know, I think it’s the best thing they’ve written together.”

“So I’ve heard...” 

Their best song yet. 

If she could move without wanting to keel over, then maybe she could make her way to the music room to hear them play. Maybe Minnie could teach her the lyrics to the song and they could sing it together. Minnie once told her that she had a really nice voice, and with more practice, it could be amazing. 

That sounded so good- to sing with Minnie. To not have an achy sore throat, to sound like herself again and sing and hold Minnie’s hand and laugh with Louis and be outside and-

Just... not being sick anymore sounded like the best thing in the world. 

God...

The scowl on her face must’ve deepened because Brody’s pressing a hand over her arm and saying, “Hey, I know what’ll cheer ya up! I brought up a new book- this one’s a sci-fi adventure since I couldn’t find another about pirates. Mitch let me borrow it.”

Shit. Usually, she’d be up for listening to Brody read to her and just... Brody’s presence in general, but she can’t do it today. 

Brody isn’t the one she wants right now. 

“Oh-”

“He said it was pretty good,” Brody grabs the book off the dresser, showing off the cover and pressing a knee against the mattress, ready to climb over. 

“Actually,” Violet sits up, putting a hand out to stop her, “I’m not- I’m not really in the mood today.”

“Oh,” Brody glances down. “Are ya sure? I don’t mind being here with you, and if I was gonna get sick, it would’ve happened by now.”

“No, I just... I want to be alone.” 

Brody studies her for a moment, then nods. 

“Sorry-”

“No!” Brody chuckles, tossing her hands up in mock surrender. “It’s alright, really. I don’t want to make you any more uncomfortable than you already are or anything. Uhm, I left ya some aspirin next to your water bottle if your head starts killin’ ya, and I can come back in a couple hours to see how you’re doing... if ya want.”

“Sounds great,” Violet sighs, forcing herself back onto her side, biting the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from groaning at the throbbing in her head. 

Brody doesn’t move, staring down at Violet’s back with worry furrowing her brow, but soon, Violet hears her footsteps move towards the door. 

“Hey, uh, Brody?”

“Yeah?”

“If you see Minnie, will you tell her I want to see her?”

Brody hesitates. 

“...Yeah, Vi, I will.”


	16. [i'll take this to my grave]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 16: Notebook

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omar? Omar.

With every stroke of the pen, blue ink fades, leaving the paper with nothing more than an indent of words. Omar shakes the pen, scribbling up at the top of the page in hopes that more blue will begin to swirl. 

Eventually, it does and he’s able to continue his writing. 

With Clementine and Louis’ upcoming wedding, there’s been more than enough excitement vibrating in the air surrounding Ericson. Omar doesn’t try to describe such a thing with pretty words or similes or whatever else could be used to make his journal entries more entertaining to read. 

Not that this is used to impress anyone. The only person who’ll ever go back to read through it is himself. That is unless something happens to him and the others go through his things to bury with him, which they would find this journal with a note in the front cover saying, “I’ll take this to my grave.” 

He added that in from the start because the things he writes within these pages are things that would probably get him kicked out of Ericson on account of the brutal honesty that the others might not be fond of. 

Not that they’re bad things. Omar doesn’t sit down and confess his undying hatred for his family and home, because he doesn’t have any. 

But, say if Aasim or Ruby were to pick up this notebook and read its contents, there would be flushed faces and angry, sputtering words. 

Then again, if they read the entire page he dedicated to the way Aasim obnoxiously denies his feelings for the girl while simultaneously looking at her like she holds that last remaining beauty in a world full of so much ugly, then maybe they’d stop being stupid and become a couple already. 

Aasim would read Omar’s statement that should get over himself, grow a pair and tell Ruby how he feels. It’s not like Ruby doesn’t return his feelings, because she does. 

The only issue is, she doesn’t know that she does. 

That may be a bold statement to make on Omar’s part, given that he’s going off of everything that he sees while remaining uninvolved, but it’s hard to miss. Ruby lights up just as much whenever Aasim walks into a room, and she seems to have a hard time keeping her hand off of his arm when talking to him. 

Aasim and Ruby aren’t the only ones Omar writes about, though. 

When Clementine and AJ arrived, he expressed his interest in getting to know them in hopes that they would be great contributors to their small community, then proceed to share his confliction that followed Marlon’s death. 

He’s written pages after pages on his theories and suspicions about Mitch and why he does some of the things he does, things that Omar would never bring to light with anyone, especially Mitch himself. 

He’s written about the fact that James still isn’t sleeping here permanently after spending two years with everyone here.

Sometimes, he hears the piano playing in the middle of the night and writes that Louis is down there again rather than sleeping and Omar still doesn’t know why, and how he wonders if Clementine knows. 

Willy and the way he looks at birds in the sky. 

Tenn and AJ and the things they consistently draw. 

He’s even jotted down different ways to potentially help Violet and her relationships with Clementine and the others but had never actually executed any of them. 

The blue ink runs dry again and it’s time to face the fact that this pen is dying. 

Omar searches through his drawer, finding a black pen missing its cap. After a few scribbles, it comes to life and he continues his work, moving on to his third page of the night. 

It may seem more than a little odd that he, well, “studies” his friends and writes about them as he does, perhaps a little invasive, but he has to remember that Aasim does the same thing much more publicly. Maybe he doesn’t stop and watch the others like Omar does, curious about what really lies behind their exteriors and what makes them tick, but he writes about the things they did that day and everyone knows about it. 

Maybe he gets away with it because he calls it a “History Book” rather than a diary or a journal or whatever. 

But, Omar notices more things about them than they could ever possibly know and without a way to express it, he’d go crazy. Or, he’d end up saying more than he should and chaos would ensue. 

This is a safety precaution. 

Yes, that’s a great way to put it. 

Despite the number of entries he has dedicated to them, they’re not the sole focus of this notebook.

Sometimes, Omar writes about how the stew he made, or about a pretty flower that he saw growing outside the gates. 

Sometimes, he writes about how he’s not feeling good, or how he feels so damn good he could sing. 

Sometimes, he writes about Marcus and his parents. 

And sometimes, he writes about what happened on the delta. 

Those ones are a bit harder to put to paper, and it’s not something he feels like diving into today. He’d rather write about the fact that Clementine and Louis are getting married soon and how the music room looks ever more beautiful now than it ever did before. He records his plans for their wedding dinner and expresses his concerns over the choice of lighting Mitch insists they use, which then leads him down another road of thought with Mitch and James spending every night in the basement- _presumably_\- working on said lights. 

After about five pages, Omar’s hand begins to cramp, a sign that it’s time to wrap it up and put it away. He finishes with a final thought on whether or not Violet will actually attend before shutting the hardcover notebook. 

Placing it back in his box, making sure it’s on the bottom beneath Marcus’ photos and T-shirt, Omar sits back and sighs. 

“Another day,” he mumbles to himself with a soft chuckle. “Another night.”

The box slips safely beneath his bed and Omar prepares to bury himself in his blanket and let sleep take him where ever his dreams wish. 


	17. [dear marlon]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 17: "I'm sorry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeesh, writing things in first person POV is *not* my way of life man...

_Dear Marlon_

_Louis said I could write you. He even talked to Clem about it and made sure she wasnt mad at me so thats what Im doing. I dont know where you are but where ever it is I want to tell you that Im sorry for shooting you. _

_At the time I thought you were a monster and monsters were suppost to die but shouldnt have done it because now I know its <strike>comp-lick-caked</strike> complicated and every situation is different like with Lilly. You werent a monster but she was and shooting her made us safe. _

_I thought I was making every one safe when I shot you but then they were all mad at me. Louis was really mad at me. He was your best friend like how Tenn is my best friend and if some one shot him then I would be mad too. He still goes to see you so I hope your being nice to him. _

_You werent a monster but you did bad things. Really really bad things but shooting you still wasnt right and Im sorry for what I did but I have been doing my best to atone and make things better and they are better I think. Louis and Clem are happy and they kiss a lot and thats pretty gross but its okay because it makes them happy. We have bunnies now that we keep in the green house and they grow up for us to eat and I help Aasim and Ruby take care of them. James is here too but you never got to meet him but hes our friend. I think you would like him because hes really cool. _

_I’m taking care of every one to atone what I did but also because I love them. Im sorry that your gone and that I cant bring you back. I hope that you can forgive me for what I did and I promise to watch out for every one now that you cant. _

AJ bites the eraser of his pencil, cringing at the nasty taste of burnt rubber. He rereads his letter, making sure he didn’t leave anything out. Once he’s read through it three more times, he smiles. It’s perfect. 

He signs his name at the bottom: _From Alvin Junior_

He folds it in half and slips it in the envelope Louis found him and licks it shut, once more cringing at the taste of the sticky stuff that’s supposed to seal it. 

All he has left to do it dig a little hole by the cross at the head of Marlon’s grave and bury his letter. 

He hopes Marlon likes it. 


	18. [dad gave it to me]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 18: Thunderstorms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You’d think that after all the sappy clouis content I’ve ingested since joining this community that I’d be sick of them by now but haha joke’s on you my appetite for clouis cuddling in the music room during a thunderstorm with Clementine and Louis opening up to each other is insatiable.

The music room isn’t filled with the sound of piano tonight, rather the crack and popping of the fireplace and the grumbling of thunder outside vibrate through the air around them.

Clementine inhales the familiar scent of burning embers, taking solace in the heat of the fire, as well as Louis’ arms wrapped snuggly around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder with a heavy blanket hugging them together. 

Cleaning out the fireplace and fixing it up for actual use was the best idea they’ve had all week, she decides as she sighs, leaning back against Louis’ chest and taking a hand in hers while the other rests comfortably on his thigh.

A particularly hard crack of thunder rumbles through the school, something that would’ve been terrifying if not for the protection of walls and of each other. It’s crazy to think that she’s here instead of out there, fighting for shelter with the constant throbbing fear that AJ would get hurt or sick or bit or whatever else the storm would throw their way. 

Louis shifts behind her, sighing contently as Clementine brings his hand to her lips to press a light kiss against his knuckles, and as she does, she notices light glistens off his wrist. 

Using her thumb, she brushes back his sleeve curiously. 

“This is new,” she says.

Louis peeks over her shoulder to find her admiring the watch adorning his wrist. It’s old given how scratched the glass is and how worn the silver looks. There are dashes where numbers should be, and four different hands. Clementine always thought clocks only had two hands. The more she studies it, none of the hands move, so she assumes either the batteries are dead or the watch itself is broken. 

“Hm? Oh, yeah, that- it’s not all that new.”

“It’s new that you’re wearing it.”

“I thought I’d give it a try,” Louis shrugs a shoulder. “See how it feels.”

“I like it,” she grins. “It looks like you.” 

“I look old and worn out? Oh, darling, you know all the right things to say.” 

“No,” she laughs, “I mean, it looks like something you would wear.”

He goes quiet, holding up his wrist to get a better look. After a moment, he finally admits, “My dad gave me this the last time I saw him.” 

“Oh.”

Clementine pulls from his grip, turning around to face him. He slips the watch off, nervously toying with it and avoiding her eye. 

“It’s really nice,” she says. “Don’t know many people who wear them anymore. Time doesn’t matter the same way it used to.” 

Louis nods, considering this. 

“This is the first time I’ve worn it out. Well, except for when Dad actually put it on me.” 

“Was it for your birthday?” Clementine asks. “Or Christmas?” 

An interesting smile crosses his lips, one that’s almost equal parts sad and fond. 

“No, he gave it to me at my grandma’s funeral.” 

“Oh.” 

“She had a stroke,” Louis sighs. “It happened not too long after I got sent here, and Dad showed up to tell me what happened. We went to the funeral together that weekend and it was...” he trails off, another groan of thunder emitting outside. “I don’t know, weird? Awkward? We didn’t talk about what I did but we didn’t talk about Grandma, either. We just... didn’t talk. And then, Mom didn’t show up because she was away with her family, so I had to talk to her on the phone and that was weird, too.”

Louis takes her hand in his, slipping the watch on and grinning at how loose it is on her. It’s heavy, foreign against her skin.

“When it was over and we were in the car heading back here, he just handed it to me and said that Grandma gave it to him and that he wanted me to have it... and I didn’t even thank him.”

“Lou...”

“I was still pissed, convinced that he and my mom were in the wrong for sending me away like I didn’t do anything,” Louis rubs at his brow, frowning. 

“You still kept it, though,” she murmurs. 

“I did... except this one time I lost it and freaked out. Torn my whole room apart looking for it. It wasn’t until a couple days later I found it in my drawer- which I swear to you, I dumped and cleaned out at least three times and it wasn’t there- that I realized how much it means to me. It’s the last thing I have of him, y’know? And I didn’t even thank him for it.”

Clementine puts the watch back on him before pushing him back against the pillows surrounding them, climbing on top and pressing her cheek against his chest. Instinctively, his hands run along her back, holding her close. They lay like that for a long time as the thunder roars on and the firelight begins to dim slightly. She knows she should add another piece of wood to keep it going, but find it harder and harder to leave his embrace. 

“You wanna know something?”

“Hm?”

“My dad gave me my hat.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah, he gave it to me before my parents left for Savannah, told me to keep it safe for him until he came back.” 

Louis’ hand finds the back of her head, fingers running through her loose curls as he says, “I didn’t know that. No wonder you wear it like you do,” he smirks, “even if it smells.”

“It does _not_ smell!” Clementine sits up, smacking his chest as he laughs. “I just washed it last week!” 

“_Did you, _though?”

“Yes, you weirdo!” 

Through their laughter, Louis leans forward to press an apologetic kiss to her cheek, though she catches him before he falls back down. With his face cupped in her palms, Clementine brings their lips together. It’s quick, there and back to smile at him, which he returns with his own. 

They move back, shifting until their comfortable again with Clementine lying against his chest, feeling the weight of the watch on his wrist as Louis drags his fingers up and down her back. 

“You should wear it more. The watch.”

“You should wash your hat more.”

“_Louis_!”


	19. [you gotta be strong, ace]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 19: Helping Hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omar backstory? Omar backstory.

The number one rule in making an orange chocolate ganache is to mix in the zest straight from the orange itself rather than orange extract. 

Omar doesn’t know _why_ exactly- the orange extract smells delicious to him, but Marcus says that shaving the outer part of the fruit makes the chocolate taste ten times better than adding a tablespoon of the extract. Omar would’ve thought it the other way around given that the aftertaste of bitter orange peel is still lingering on his curious tongue after chewing a slice. 

Marcus had tried to stop him, but he had also laughed at the face me made before gagging and spitting it in the sink.

“Told’ja it’s nasty,” Marcus chuckles, his dark eyes crinkling with delight at Omar’s childish pout and crossed arms. “Here, try this. Should make the taste go away.” 

Omar perks up at the sight of glossy chocolate dripping down the spoon, snatching and shoving the whole thing in his mouth. It’s heavenly, smooth and rich and sweet but not too much, and the orange flavor seals the deal- this is the best thing Omar as ever eaten in his entire life. 

“Well, what’s the verdict, Ace?” Marcus wipes his hands along his apron, eagerly awaiting Omar’s all so important opinion on the chocolate even though he already knows it’s perfect. “Good enough for the bride and groom?”

“Uh-huh!” Omar nods quickly, licking the spoon clean. Marcus’ grin grows as he holds up his hand. 

“Alright! We did it!” 

The two of them high-five before Omar jumps back up in his chair to watch Marcus work. Their kitchen’s fairly big, but with the freshly frozen cake resting on the table and other baking necessities laying around them, there aren’t many places Omar can go to make sure he’s right there when Marcus needs him. 

The mouth-watering scent of orange, vanilla, and chocolate have flooded the kitchen, leaking out through the entire house. Omar knew the moment he woke up with morning that Marcus was baking the cake for the wedding. Still in his pajamas, hair an absolute mess and teeth left unbrushed, Omar ran through the house and burst into the kitchen to find the cake in the oven and Marcus sitting at the table molding flowers out of chocolate. 

Mom and Dad hadn’t told him that Marcus would be home last night, and he completely forgot about Sasha and Max’s wedding today, so to wake up to his brother like that was the same as waking up on Christmas and getting to meet Santa. Omar nearly knocked over the table when he leaped into Marcus’ strong, safe arms.

He could’ve cried, as embarrassing as it is, but it’s been a whole week since they saw each other last! A _week_! 

“Ya never told me how schools going,” Marcus says, setting the bowl aside. “Miss Johns treating you good?” 

“Yeah, she’s nice,” Omar nods. “She gives out too much homework, but she’s nice.” 

“Eh, they always do,” Marcus laughs. “But it’s okay because you’re smart and you blaze right through it, don’t’cha?”

A swell of pride warms his chest at the compliment, replying, “Yeah, it’s easy! We’re doing division in math and I’m a helper!”

“A helper!”

“Yeah, yeah, I go around- I go around and help the other kids because they don’t get it and I do and I help them with- I help them with their problems because they get harder as we go and Miss Johns said I got one-hundred percent on the last test so I can be a helper!”

“Atta boy, Ace!” Marcus high-fives him again, this time also handing him another spoonful of ganache, which Omar happily accepts. “See? I told’ja you could do it! Division ain’t got nothing on you.”

He’s right, and Omar knows it. He knew it when the two of them sat down together last week for a few hours doing his homework. 

He’d struggled with it in class, getting nearly every answer wrong until Marcus showed him a different way of doing it. He walked through it with him until Omar could finally do it himself. He brought his homework the next morning and earned himself a piece of taffy for showing his work and getting everything correct. 

“Did’ja tell Ma and Dad?” 

“Yeah,” Omar shrugs. “They put my test on the fridge.”

Marcus leans back, searching the front of the fridge for the test in question, but only finds a newspaper clipping of Dad holding up a fat fish with the headline LARGEST CATCH OF THE SEASON. 

Marcus scoffs. 

“You kept it, right?”

“It’s in my folder.”

“Good, I wanna see it when we’re done here.” 

“Okay!” Omar grins. 

Marcus holds up the bowl of ganache, motioning towards the top pantry. 

“It’s ready to pour. Grab the racks for me?” 

He’s on it, off his chair and grabbing the correct racks for them to set each layer of the cake on. There’s a pan beneath them to catch the drippings of the chocolate for Omar to eat when they’re done. 

Watching Marcus pour the chocolate over the cakes is the most satisfying thing in the world. Omar doesn’t know how he gets it so shiny and perfect enough that he can see his own reflection in it, but he does and that’s proof enough that Marcus is nothing but the best. 

The best baker, the best chef, the best artist, and the best brother in the world.

Marcus ruffles his hair before pulling Omar into a side hug, exclaiming, “Isn’t that beautiful!”

“I can’t wait to eat it!”

“You’re coming with me?”

“Ma said I could,” Omar nods. “Is that okay?”

“Of course, Ace. You’re always welcome to tag along. Just make sure you congratulate Sasha and Max before trying to devour the whole cake, m’kay? And you gotta wear a tie.”

Omar frowns, whining, “A tie?”

“Yes, you can’t go to a wedding without a tie.” 

That’s a dumb rule, he decides but agrees nonetheless. 

Once the ganache has set, Omar helps place them in the fridge to cool for a couple of hours before they leave. Once they’re finished safely transferring the cakes, Marcus rests a hand on his shoulder and guides him back to the table. 

“Hey, sit down a minute,” he says. “I made’ja some fresh cookies this morning.”

“Really? You did?” Omar gasps at the sight of a dozen little peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, all placed on a paper plate wrapped in clear plastic. Marcus had them hidden in the cupboards, knowing Omar would’ve swallowed them down the moment he caught a glance of them. 

They’re a famous recipe, one that Marcus made up all by himself with a little help from Omar, of course. It was his idea to mix in both regular and white chocolate chips, after all. 

Tearing the plastic off, Marcus hands him a stack of the cookies, which begin popping into his mouth. 

“Slow down,” Marcus laughs. “You can’t even taste ‘em when you eat that fast.”

A muffled “Yes I can!” comes out of Omar as he stuffs another cookie in his mouth. 

Marcus sits with him at the table, snatching a cookie for himself as Omar allows himself to properly swallow, breathing out with such genuine love, “Thanks, Marcus. You’re the best.” 

That makes Marcus grin, eyes softening fondly.

“Don’t know about that. I’m not the Ace here.”

Omar beams, munching on another cookie to hide his smile. 

Silence comes between them as Marcus shifts, breaking one of the cookies in half without eating either piece. 

“Hey, Omar,” he says. “There’s something I wanna talk to you about.” 

Finishing the last cookie, Omar peers curiously at him, taking note of Marcus’ tapping fingers, a habit he only does when he’s anxious. 

“You think these cookies are good?” 

Omar’s taken back by the question, blinking up at him. 

“Of course! They’re my favorite!”

“You think they’re good enough to sell?”

“Yes! You could make, like, a _billion_ dollars selling your cookies.”

That sets Marcus off, laughter erupting deep in his chest as he throws his head back. 

“Wow! _That _good, huh?” 

“Yes!” Omar laughs with him. 

“I’ll have to keep that in mind,” Marcus chuckles, clearing his throat and smiling, “because I got a job.”

“You did?”

Joy fills Omar’s stomach. For months, Marcus has looked for a job at every local bakery to no avail. He even went out of town, willing to travel if the pay was good enough.

“I did,” Marcus nods. “I finally did, and it’s perfect. They love my recipes, they think me and Sam are a great team and a great pair of workers, and they pay good. Maybe not a billion dollars good, but still good.” 

“Where is it? Is it that cookie shop over by the fishing place Dad goes to?”

Marcus glances down at the table, his fingers resuming their tapping. “Uh, no, it’s not that place. It’s... well, it’s a little far away.” 

“How far?”

“Ireland.”

An anchor drops in Omar’s stomach.

“...What?”

“Sam and I are going to Ireland to work. We’ll be gone for a few months at a time, with breaks to come fly home, though we’re not entirely sure about the holidays, uhm...”

Omar doesn’t say anything. 

“I already told Ma and Dad. They’re good with it, but at this point, they’re happy with anything that’ll get me out of this house,” Marcus tries to laugh. “But, uh, I promised I’d write at least once a week, and that goes double for you, Ace.”

The nickname that usually brought him such joy suddenly brings nothing but wet warmth to his eyes. 

_He’s leaving. _

“It’s gonna be... _difficult_, at first-”

_He’s leaving._

“-and a little scary, but this is such a big opportunity for us.”

_He’s leaving forever._

“They could’ve picked anyone to bring there and they chose us.”

_He’s leaving me forever._

“What do you-”

Marcus stops.

The table is wet with the drips of Omar’s tears falling over his cheeks and down his chin. He rubs his eyes on his sleeve, his chin violently quivering. 

“Omar...” 

“You’re leaving?” Omar gasps out, attempt to stop the shakiness threatening to consume him. “You’re leaving me?”

“I don’t want to-”

“Then don’t! You don’t gotta go! Tell them no!”

“Omar, I can’t turn this down.”

“Why?”

“C’mon, come here.”

Omar shoves him away, biting his lip as he cries, eyes burning and head and heart pounding painfully. The pushing barely does anything. Marcus is much bigger than he is and is able to pull him into a comforting hug, in which Omar finally breaks down, sobbing into Marcus’ sweater. 

“I know, I know...” he coos, pressing a hand against the back of Omar’s head. “I’m so sorry, Omar, if I could, I’d take you with me and we could take over the whole place together but I can’t, just like how I can’t turn this down.” 

Omar sobs harder.

“I’m sorry,” Marcus repeats, “but, listen. Listen, Ace, I’m gonna write to you twice a week, and I’ll send you packages full of peanut butter cookies and fudge and candy and anything else I find while I’m there. I’ll take lots of pictures and send ‘em to you.” 

“Please,” Omar pleads, pulling back to stare teary-eyed at his brother. “Please don’t go.”

“Omar,” Marcus’ voice is stern, but kind, “you are the strongest, smartest, and coolest boy in the whole universe. I won’t lie to you. This is gonna suck at first, but I’m not gonna be there forever. I’ll be there a year, two at the most.”

“Two years!?”

“At most,” Marcus nods. “Then, I’ll come back here and open up my own shop, and I’m gonna need your help to do that, but you gotta be strong until then. Ma’s gonna need you, Dad, too.”

“No, they’re not, they’re...”

“I know,” Marcus sighs. “I know, but it won’t be that bad. I promise that I’ll talk to you while I’m there, and I hope that you’ll talk back.” 

“I don’t know how to write a letter...”

“Then, I better show you after the wedding, huh?” 

Omar wipes his nose on his sleeve, sniffling, “I guess... but Dad said sending to stuff to places like that is a lot of money.”

“That doesn’t matter, the money doesn’t matter, Omar.”

“And you promise to send stuff every week?”

“I will, even if it costs a million dollars.”

“You don’t got a million dollars.”

“Well, then I’ll work extra hard and make a million dollars so that I can send you something every single week,” Marcus chuckles, ruffling Omar’s hair. “But, you gotta be strong, Ace, okay?” 

As Omar looks to his brother- the one person in the universe who Omar could confidently call his hero- and his kind face, he feels like crying again knowing that soon, he'll be far away... unreachable when things turn sour. 

He’s won’t be okay, that’s the truth. Omar will be anything but okay, but Marcus believes in him and he’s right, he needs to be strong. Omar can’t let him down.

“Okay... I’ll try.” 

“That’s all I ask,” Marcus pulls him in for a hug. “I’m gonna set up an email, too, so if you ever need me for anything that can’t wait in a letter, you can find me that way."

"Okay."

"I'm proud of you, Ace." Marcus grins. "Now, go get your math folder. I wanna see that A-plus.” 


	20. [dead, dead, dead]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 20: Too Late

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haven’t written anything Tenn-centric before… so here’s an attempt, I guess. I… I don’t really know what this is. A thought dump by Tenn? I dunno…

_“She’s gone, buddy. I’m sorry.”_

He’s heard those words before about Minnie, and about Sophie, but something about the way Mitch had said them back in that cave struck something within Tenn, like a pinched nerve. 

Mitch didn’t beat around the bush, and he didn’t lie to try and spare Tenn’s feelings. 

_“She was on the boat when the bomb went off. Louis said she got bit and couldn’t get off. She didn’t make it, Tenn.” _

Minnie got bit. 

Minnie got bit. 

Sophie’s dead.

_“Listen, I- I can’t bullshit you, Tenn.”_

Minnie killed Sophie. 

_“I’m sorry.”_

Marlon gave them away. 

Marlon’s dead.

Minnie and Sophie are dead.

His sisters are dead. 

Dead. Dead. Dead. 

The word starts to lose its meaning once you say it so many times, or perhaps he’s trying to ignore the meanings and realities behind the word. Facing such things makes it true, makes it right, and it brings the weight of the fact crashing upon him. 

Minnie and Sophie are dead, now somewhere else, somewhere better without him and he’ll never see them again so long as he breathes. 

That’s the reality. 

Tenn doesn’t want to face it, doesn’t want to see it or realize it or accept it. 

_“She’s gone, buddy. I’m sorry.”_

He could’ve helped. 

If Tenn had the opportunity to see Minnie again before she died, he could’ve talked to her, told her he forgave her for everything and that he wanted her to come home with him- to their true home back at Ericson with the others. Minnie, with everyone’s help, could’ve become one of them again just like before. 

_“Louis saw it, and so did Aasim and Omar. She almost killed Clem.” _

But, it’s too late now. 

Minnie and Sophie are dead. 

For real, this time. 

And now everything’s normal. 

The delta’s gone, and Ericson is at peace... for the most part.

There’s the heavy tension surrounding Violet, but Tenn’s doing his best to make her feel better and come out of that darkness. 

Then there’s the awkwardness of James, someone who isn’t sure if he wants to stay with them or not after AJ killed Lilly. Tenn likes him, he saved his life in the caves and helped Mitch bring him back. He hopes he stays. 

Omar’s leg is healing, and he’s able to walk around better. 

Clementine and Louis are together, like, a _love_ kind of together, the kind that Tenn’s read about in some of his books. 

Aasim’s working on putting in a rabbit farm over by the greenhouse so that they don’t have to worry about hunting as much, and Ruby’s helping him with it. 

Mitch is, well... himself, but different. Tenn doesn’t know how to explain it, even to himself, and Willy doesn’t know what it is, either. 

And then there’s AJ.

AJ. 

He’s been distant. Tenn thought he was mad at him, thought he was purposely ignoring him because he was mad about Tenn not shooting Lilly when he had the chance... for crying because he couldn’t do it, even as she terrified and taunted him.

Or, maybe he was mad about him getting separated from the group, putting Mitch and James at risk for going after him. 

Willy had been mad, but that wasn’t it for AJ.

_“You gotta do better, Tenn.” _

Tenn doesn’t know why he does things sometimes. He just... does them, and sometimes, people get hurt, or worse. 

He doesn’t want to hurt anyone, and he doesn’t want any more killing, no more _dead_. 

_“Teach me to be like you, AJ.”_

Minnie and Sophie are dead. 

Marlon and Brody are dead. 

His parents are dead. 

Dead. Dead. Dead. 

And he’s alive, holding a gun in his hand because he wants to be better, to be more like AJ. Alive and smart. Useful. 

_“But, you’re an artist.”_

An artist. 

An artist who drew happy, beautiful things, but also drew his sisters as walkers as if it was okay.

_“You can be smart and strong and still be an artist. You’re good at it.”_

A fighter and an artist, wielding both a gun and a pencil. 

And alive, alive, alive. 


	21. [black eyes and busted lips]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 21: "I missed you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took so long to finish. I had two different ideas for this that I tried to combine but it wasn’t working so I had to rewrite it. Anyway, here’s some more Mitch.

Justin’s in his bed. 

Which is_ bullshit_ because Justin has his own damn bed not even five steps away, a bed that he hasn’t even slept in for the past two weeks! 

But no, he’s lying face first in _Mitch’s_ pillow, spread out across _Mitch’s_ mattress, and rolled up in _Mitch’s_ blanket. 

He’s never wanted to kick Justin’s ass as hard as he does now, and that’s saying a lot. 

After the initial shock of the sight before him, Mitch makes sure to slam the door shut extra hard, the wooden frame vibrating with such force that it makes Justin jump, but not much. He keeps his face hidden in the pillow and groans. 

“Hey, dipshit,” Mitch scowls. “What the hell are you doing?”

No response. 

Mitch kicks the frame. 

“That’s _my_ bed.”

“Don’t see your name on it,” Justin snaps back without any real bite, words partially muffled by the pillow. 

“My name-” _Is he fucking serious? _

Justin socks him in the face and then doesn’t talk to him for two whole fucking weeks- _two weeks!_\- goes out of his way to completely avoid Mitch, going as far as to sleep in one of the empty rooms by himself, and now he’s back and curled up in _his_ bed? 

No, he doesn’t just get to do that after the shit he’s pulled. 

Gripping the blanket, Mitch yanks it off.

Justin doesn’t move, but he lightly shivers, curling in on himself.

Fuck.

Rolling onto his back, Justin stares up at the top bunk, forcing himself to avoid Mitch’s hard stare rubbing his face with his hands. The spotting of healed over wounds still kiss his knuckles, red and angry. 

Arms folded over his chest, Mitch kicks the frame again. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Mitch demands, forcing his voice deeper, an attempt at being intimidating. 

Justin’s dark eyes dart towards him quick beneath the mess of curls, but the weariness weighs heavy in them and through the contours of his thin face. 

“Hiding,” he answers quietly, unnaturally timid. 

Fuck. 

Mitch doesn’t even need any more of an answer. 

After the whole thing with Minnie blew up in Justin’s face- just like Mitch said it would- the news spread around the school just as fast as Minnie could run her mouth. 

It started out small and truthful: Justin asked Minnie to teach him how to dance, then he kissed her. Minnie got mad, pushed him away, and stormed out. 

By the time it got to Mitch, the story was that Justin professed his undying love for Minnie with a terrible dance, shoved his entire tongue down her throat, and cried when Minnie kicked him in the nuts. Then, Mitch confronted him about it because, apparently,_ he’s_ in love with her now, too-_ Jesus fucking Christ_\- and their little fight in the courtyard was about Minnie’s honor and affection and nothing else. 

And that’s just _one_ of the stupid fucking versions. 

A miserable two weeks on all levels, but he didn’t bother explaining himself to the others. He wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction of taking his words out of context to play their little drama-filled game of telephone. 

He knows why he wrote that shit all over Ericson, he knows why that fight broke out between them, why he busted Justin’s lip open and tackled him to the ground, he knows why he’s pissed off. 

_He does. _

Justin’s an asshole. That’s why. That’s the reason. 

Mitch’s got nothing to prove to anybody, no reason to explain himself. 

At least the others knew to leave him alone.

Justin wasn’t so lucky.

Most of the girls are avoiding him, opting to say nasty things about him rather than have any interaction with him. The guys were another story, most of them not caring about the stupid nonsense buzzing around and still willing to talk to Justin.

Except for Mitch. He hasn’t talked to him since the fight.

Never a dull fucking moment at Ericson.

Their room is quiet, awkwardly so, damn uncomfortable- Mitch has to roll his shoulders, turn away from the depressing sight of Justin and move. 

Justin’s gym bag rests on desk, dirty clothes pouring out from the opening along with a book- that’s where his bird book went the fucker- and something shiny. Snatching the book, Mitch inspects it for any sign of damage until a noticeable clang falls upon the wooden surface. 

A watch? 

A disgustingly expensive-looking watch, heavy with real silver and chip in the glass, one that Justin nor his family could ever afford in their lifetime. 

“What’s this?” 

The guilt is immediate.

“A watch, dumbass.”

“Uh-huh,” Mitch frowns. “Where’d you get it?”

“Found it.”

Justin’s good at a lot of things, theft being one of them, but he’s a shit liar and always has been. That paired with his sticky fingers is what got him sent here in the first place.

Mitch sighs, looking the watch over in hands in hopes of finding a name or something. A watch like this is usually engraved but not this one. Shit, he’d have to snoop around and see just where Justin “found” this later. 

He pockets it, waiting for Justin to throw a fit, but he doesn’t. He only stares at Mitch with such a despondent stare that Mitch wants to deck him in his stupid face, then maybe they could have matching black eyes. 

“How’s your face?” Justin asks suddenly as if reading his mind. Or maybe the bruising’s still that noticeable. “You can see, right?”

“Obviously.”

“I just mean it’s not swollen anymore, asshole,” Justin pulls himself up, slumping his shoulders, stare fixated on his hands. “I didn’t mean to hit you that hard.”

“Yes, you did.”

“...Yeah, but only because you’re a dick.”

“Oh, _I’m_ a dick,” Mitch scoffs. “Fuck you.”

“Fuck you!” Justin’s off the bed, stumbling over the blanket curled up on the ground. “You wrote that shit all over the place! Everyone saw it! ‘Justin fucked a walker,’ God, what’s wrong with you!” 

“Yeah, well, you attacked me first!” 

“Because I knew you did it! And now Minnie won’t talk to me and every- everybody hates me-”

“Oh, shut up, no one hates you!”

“God, you’re so-” Justin chokes, and Mitch finally realizes that he’s crying. Justin falls back onto the bed, face in his hands as he sobs. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck-

That’s not-

He didn’t-

Justin wipes his nose on his sleeve, practically hyperventilating as he tries to breathe through his tears. Mitch is frozen, heart hammering too hard and brain malfunctioning with the question _what am I supposed to do?_

“I didn’t even kiss her,” Justin chokes out. “I tried to but she didn’t want to because she doesn’t like- she doesn’t like me and I got mad and kicked her out and then she told everyone and then you- you’re supposed to be my friend and you write shit like that for no reason because you think it’s funny-”

“I-”

“-and now no one wants to talk to me except fucking _Louis_ and God, I hate him so, so, _so_ much I-” Justin hiccups, eyes red and glossy as he motions towards Mitch “-I’m- I’m such-”

He’s off the bed again, and Mitch thinks he’s going to hit him, and he’s going to let him, but the impact isn’t what he expects. Instead of a fist colliding with his jaw, arms are wrapping around his waist and his chin tickles with the brush of soft curls. 

The heat of it, the contact, it melts through his clothes, his flesh, and seeps down into his bones. His pulse vibrates in his cheeks, blood pumping so fast he might pass out. 

“I fucking missed you, man,” Justin shakes his head, “even if you are an asshole and I hate you because I got no one else.”

What the fuck...?

_What the fuck?_

Mitch is hugging him back, he realizes, and it’s awkward and weird but it’s not terrible, not really. Except for the crying part, he could do without that. 

When Justin pulls back, he’s cold despite the heat staining his cheeks and neck. 

Justin slaps him. 

“Ow, fuck!” 

“That’s for being a prick,” Justin sniffles. 

A _fuck you_ is on the tip of his tongue, but Mitch bites it back, reaching out and yanking on a chunk of Justin’s hair. 

“Hey!”

“That’s for the black eye.” 

They glare at each other, but that hostility breaks when one of them snorts out a laugh. Mitch doesn’t know if it’s him or not, but they’re chuckling together with only Justin’s swollen eyes and Mitch’s flushed cheeks remaining from the fight. 

“Sorry,” Justin wipes his eyes. “Didn’t mean to turn into such a girl.”

“Eh,” Mitch shrugs. “Not much different than you usually are.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“You’re like a clingy girlfriend.”

“Fuck you, don’t be gay.”

A jolt shoots through his gut, making him cough and quickly and loudly retaliate, “Then don’t be such a girl, dickwad!” 

“Jesus, okay,” Justin rolls his eyes, pushing him out of the way to begin filing his clothes back into their respective drawers. 

A sense of relief washes over him. 

Mitch wouldn’t ever tell him, not in a million goddamn year, that he had missed him, too. 

Justin, this little shit who thought he was six feet tall and unbreakable but really, was fragile, who felt impulses to take what wasn’t his and then would lie horribly about it when caught, who has lived in this room with him since their first days in this hellhole, who was too scared to move out because he hated being alone, who wanted nothing more than Minnie to look at him like he hung the moon in the sky and gave it it’s beautiful glow.

Justin, who was an asshole but who was also his best friend, whether he liked it or not. Who helped him take care of Willy even though he could barely stand the kid, who hated Louis for little to no reason just _because_, who once called Ruby a fat, hillbilly troll then cried when she whacked him with a wooden spoon so hard that it left a welt on his arm.

Justin, who liked comic books and kept a gross porn collection under his bed, who thought Almond Joys were the best candy bar in the world, who couldn’t shoot a bow straight to save his life, who gave Mitch a dumb book on birds, who told Mitch through his tears that he missed him. 

Justin, who Mitch had missed so damn much these past two weeks it nearly drove him to uncover that secret stash of booze Justin keeps under his bed and drink all of it, even if he loathes the taste of alcohol.

Justin pushes him out of the way to begin filing his clothes back into their respective drawers. 

“Can I have my watch back?”

“_Your_ watch?”

“Finders keepers.”

“Well, in that case, _I_ found it and it's mine now,” Mitch smirks. “Finders keepers.”

“Asshole.”

_Missed you, too,_ he thought. 


	22. [summer]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 22: Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Jamie boy...

There’s a tear in the picture, right across Charlie’s face.

He doesn’t know how it happened, or when, but he’s desperately pulling it from the plastic protection and trying to press it back together. A knife must’ve done this or something- no!

The knife, the work-in-progress that he had to hide this morning, he shoved it into his bag. How could he have been so careless? 

He has no tape, no glue, nothing to hold it together apart from the plastic holder that’s now sliced as well. 

“Please-” James whispers to himself, smoothing out the curl of the photo. 

It’s all he has left.

_“You know what I love?”_

At least, left of Charlie.

_"Summer?”  
_

_“Yes, but you know what I love about summer?”_

The real Charlie, the one he had loved once.

_“Camping, sleeping out here. Ever notice how good it smells out here?”  
_

_“That’s just the s’mores.”  
_

_“No! Well, yeah, those smell good, too, but I mean the dirt and the trees and stuff.”_

Or rather... still did.

_James laughs, squishing the gooey, burnt marshmallow between two graham crackers. It sticks to his fingers, making more of a mess than not. _

_“We only ever get to sleep outside during the summer,” Charlie continues, popping a piece of chocolate in his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “I wish we could sleep outside every night.” _

_“Who said we can’t?”  
_

_“Your dad,” Charlie snorts, jerking his thumb back at the camper where James’ father sleeps, “but I’m not sleeping in there with him. He snores.”  
_

_“So do you.”  
_

_“Not like that!”   
_

Charlie’s smile contorts with the tear, not quite lining up and giving an unsettling expression to his youthful face. 

The urge to cry worsens. 

_“It just,” Charlie sighs, “it’s just freeing to be out here, you know? We can just sit here and build fires and eat s’mores until we puke.”_

_“Climb the trees and chase the squirrels?” James suggests.  
_

_“Or go swimming in the lake!” As if the idea is revolutionary, Charlie slaps his hand on James’ arm, grasping the thick material of his sweat. “We should go swimming!”_

_“Right now?”  
_

_“Right now!”  
_

_“But, my dad-”  
_

_“He won’t know!” Charlie jumps up from his chair, pulling James up with him. “It’s no far!”  
_

_“We don’t have swimsuits.”  
_

_“So? You have underwear on, don’t you?”  
_

_“Yeah-”  
_

_“Then let’s go! C’mon, up, up, Jamie boy!”   
_

_"Shhh!"_

_The water’s freezing, but James doesn’t really care. _

_All he cares is that he’s a better swimmer than Charlie and that gives him the advantage when they begin dunking each other below the surface, grabbing ankles and thrashing about._

_He doesn’t care if his dad hears them. He doesn’t care if they get sick from being in the cold water. He doesn’t care if he can feel the squishy mud slip and squeeze through his toes. He doesn’t care if the world decided to end tomorrow. _

_All he cares about is that its summer and he and Charlie are together. _


	23. [scruffy but in a handsome way]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 23: Snowfall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ruby thinks about Aasim more than she lets on.

The first snow of the year is always the prettiest.

Pure, untainted by muddy footprints, it leaves a blanket of white and a calm quiet over Ericson. The sight is something straight out of her book, Ruby thinks, shivering at the chill sticking and seeping in through her window as she peers out. While it’s all lovely to look at, she sure could do without the part where they freeze their asses off more so than usual. 

Then again, with the snow came Aasim at his, dare she say, _cutest_. 

Of everyone at Ericson, the poor fool couldn’t stand the cold, much less snow. While being a complete grouch about it- he might as well constantly mutter “bah humbug” under his breath with how grouchy the cold makes him- it also meant that Aasim would do a number of things Ruby decided were just adorable over the course of winter. 

First, he’d try and grow his beard again. Y’know, to keep his face warm. Patchy and not exactly flattering, he’d give up after a couple of weeks and trim it back down to his usual goatee. The effort's admirable, though. 

With the beard being a failure, what wasn’t such a thing was the hair upon his head, which he let grow out long, a mess over his forehead and down his neck. Again, for warmth. It made him look scruffy but in a handsome way. 

Then, there were the sweaters. Layers upon layers of sweaters, turtle necks, heavy coats, scarves, gloves, a pair of snow pants, and while she couldn’t ever confirm it, she knows that he wears at least two pairs of socks before slipping on his snow boots. 

The only thing you’d see of Aasim while out in the snow is his eyes, and sometimes not even that when he had his goggles on. He reminded her of a child whose overprotective mother bound him up so tightly before sending him out to build a snowman. The poor guy waddled around whenever forced outdoors, usually by Louis or Clementine. 

Indoors isn’t that different, he still bundled up in his “old man sweaters,” as Louis calls them, scarves, and hats. At least when they were inside she could see his handsome, scowling face as he wrote about how awful snow is or how he’s glad they finally have their rabbit farm so that he doesn’t have to go out and hunt when the weather’s like this. 

She dare not think it- though she can’t stop herself- but his overall winter look reminded her of Milo. It’s a dangerous thought, really. 

Ruby sits back, the book in question resting upon her desk.

_The Woodsman._

The tragic love story of Milo and Abigail, beginning at the first snowfall and ending at the last. 

She’ll reread it again tonight after she’s made herself a cup of hot tea- and one for Aasim, as well. 


	24. [french]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 24: "It's not your fault."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whenever I don’t know what to write about for a prompt, my brain goes to “Hmm, how can I make this either about clouis or Mitch?” and today my brain chose Mitch and his little adventures of slowly discovering something about himself and then repressing it. Also, birds.

It’s the movement that catches his attention. Earthy hues with dark specks, a shade that blends well in with the woods and its dirt pathway. The tiny bird hops over patches of grass and broken sticks as if she has springs in those dainty feet, graceful and quiet. 

Mitch watches it peck at the ground, mouth twisting as he wracks his brain for the name of it. 

The kicks of a pebble bouncing past his scares off the bird, so Mitch watches it take to the sky and disappear within the trees. 

From behind him, Justin sighs. Again. 

It’s irritating. 

He’s a sad sight, really, so Mitch can’t be too pissed at him. Shoulders hunched and arms crossed, a pout cemented on his expression and tear in his left sleeve- it’s that jacket Mitch ripped last year and never apologized for but it’d be weird to apologize for it now, so he doesn’t bring it up- and dark, unkept curls flying out in every direction, Justin’s a damn mess. 

Then again, what else is new?

Mitch moves towards him, but Justin barely acknowledges him with a glance, so Mitch yanks on the torn sleeve. 

Justin jerks his arm away with a weak, “Stop.”

“Then stop being a baby.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck_ you_.” 

That makes him grin, shaking his head and bumping Mitch’s shoulder as he pushes past. Mitch follows, trailing close enough for their arms to brush as they walk through the woods.

Laughter emits somewhere through the trees, probably Louis and Marlon fucking around while resetting traps. Justin hears it, too, judging by the way his soft grin immediately dies into a scowl. It’s almost comical.

“Who shit in your cereal this morning?” Mitch asks casually, even though he already knows the answer. Maybe if Justin just freaks out about it some more, then he’ll get over it and then he won’t be so damn sulky. “You’re bumming me out.”

“Oh, I’m bumming you out? My bad, guess I’ll just go fuck myself-”

“Shut up,” Mitch rolls his eyes, grabbing at Justin’s sleeve to keep him from walking off. “Jesus, what’s the matter with you?” 

They walk in silence until they come upon the fishing shack and the river. Mitch grabs the spears, taking note of a broken one lying across the table. Snapped in half, probably from someone’s enthusiasm in stabbing fish. Probably Ruby’s doing. 

Justin sighs loudly and Mitch wants to wack him with the end of the spear, but that notion goes away when he sees what Justin’s staring at. 

_V + M_

“...Why doesn’t she like me?”

“What?” Mitch answers stupidly, scratching behind his ear nervously as he approaches the carving. 

“Minnie,” Justin offers. “Why doesn’t she like me?”

This shit again- how was he supposed to know? What was it that Justin wanted him to say? 

He _wants_ to say, _“Dude, who cares? She and Vi are a thing now. Get over it.”_

But, he doesn’t.

“Probably because you tried to french her.”

“Geez, I didn’t try to _french_ her,” Justin rolls his eyes, a hint of a smile betraying his lips. “It was going to be a perfectly innocent, tongueless first kiss. She was gonna love it.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure.” 

“I was going to dip her during the dance. Super romantic.”

Mitch snorts. “You would’ve dropped her.”

“Piss off, no I wouldn’t’ve,” Justin argues, frowning. “Besides, you don’t french until the third date anyway.”

Mitch scoffs, “That a rule?”

“Yeah.”

“And if you break it?”

“You die.” 

“You _die_?”

Justin smirks, voice going cracky and high as he wiggles his fingers in Mitch’s face, “_If you french before the third date, Satan will come up and bite your dick off!_”

“Holy shit!” Mitch laughs, knocking the fingers out of his face. “What the fuck, dude? Who told you that?” 

“Sorry,” Justin giggles. “My bro told me that once after Ma gave me ‘The Talk.’ Had nightmares about it for a week.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Justin points at the floorboards beneath the bed before flopping down on it. “He’d come up from down there- this big fucking skeleton with red robes and a mustache- and get me while I was sleeping. I wasn’t even frenching anybody!”

The laughter continues to bubble over in Mitch’s chest as he says with nothing but fondness, “You’re a little weirdo, y’know that?” 

Justin doesn’t shoot back an insult, he only sighs once more and spreads himself out across the bed, staring up at the broken ceiling. 

“Maybe I am a weirdo,” he says, “is that why?” 

Mitch was hoping they had strayed far away from that, but apparently not. 

When he stares at the initials trapped within a heart, it’s strange. Well, it makes him feel strange, with thoughts of_ why the hell would they do that for everyone to see?_ and _why did they want to do that?_

“It’s not your fault she doesn’t like you,” Mitch mumbles. “You know that, right?” 

“It’s Violet’s fault.”

“No, dumbass,” Mitch rolls his eyes, exasperated. “It’s no one’s fault.”

“It’s gross.”

“What, Vi and Minnie? Yeah, but so is frenching and all the other shit you do.”

“No, I mean-” Justin sits up, staring down at his hands. “It’s weird that they’re both girls, right?” 

Mitch hesitates, a thought bursting in his mind. A memory of his brother Alex, and his friend- some dude on the football team? He couldn’t remember that much- sitting at the kitchen table, talking in whispers about something that happened at school and the words come out on their own. 

“Better two girls than two dudes.”

Justin makes a face. “Definitely.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Mitch frowns. “Minnie and Vi are a thing now.” 

“God,” Justin groans. “I’m so- I’m so much _better _than her, though. Like, outta everybody at Ericson, she chooses to be with _Violet_?”

“Maybe it’s because you’re an asshole.” 

“Am I wrong, though?”

_"Yes_," Mitch wants to say,_"you are wrong because Minnie obviously would rather kiss Violet than you, would rather dance and hold hands and do all that gross shit with her instead of you because you’re a jerk who says and does mean things to everyone because, for some reason, you think it’ll make you feel better about- about whatever the hell it is that bothers you. She’s with Violet, not you. Minnie doesn’t like you because you only want to show the bad. Why the fuck do you hide the good? What’s wrong with the good? I know it’s in there, I’ve fucking seen it, so what the fuck is the fucking problem, Justin?"_

“...Whatever, dude. Grab your spear and let’s go.” 


	25. [pineapple pizza]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 25: Card Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t believe I’ve written any clouis that takes place before Marlon dies so have this piece of Clem and Lou flirting in front of everyone.

“I keep telling you,” Louis smirks, holding up a Queen of Hearts, “I am the greatest card player of all time.”

Clementine makes a show of rolling her eyes, exaggerating with throwing her head back and laughing as she snatches the card from him. 

“You can’t say that every single time you win a round.”

“I can, and I will.” 

“Fine, fine,” she grins. “Ask your question.” 

“Pineapple on pizza,” Louis quirks a brow. “Yay or nay?”

Clementine wrinkles her nose. “Nay.”

“What, really?” 

“Yeah, gross.”

Louis places a hand over his heart, feigning hurt as he mourns, “This isn’t how I thought this friendship would end, Clem, but everything happens for a reason, I guess.” 

She flicks a card at him, arguing, “Oh come on! How about I make you a deal?” 

“I’m listening.”

“If we ever come across a running pizza parlor, we’ll order one and I’ll give you all the pineapple off my side.” 

Louis presses a finger to his chin, forcing a serious face as he considers her offer. 

“It’s bold of you to assume that I’d share a whole pizza with you.” 

“Louis!”

He chuckles, deflecting another card being flicked his way. 

“You drive a hard bargain, Clem, but if we ever come across such a wonder like a functioning pizza parlor, we’re ordering, like, twenty pizzas and I’d be more than happy to hog all the pineapple to myself,” Louis holds out his hand to her. “Deal?”

It’s warm around hers, sending delightful shocks through her muscles, causing her heart to flutter much faster. 

“Deal.”

She doesn’t immediately let go, enjoying the weight and comfort of holding Louis’ hand in hers. When they do part, her fingers drag across his palm. 

It’s time to draw another card, but not without a lingering glance between them. 

Clementine’s only been at Ericson for a week and a half, the longest she and AJ have stayed in one location in years, and she’s come to love the nightly card games she found herself in. It felt nice to be around the others, playing War with Louis, and sometimes Marlon, Violet, and Aasim, while AJ hung out and colored with Tenn. 

She knew not to be too hopeful, knowing that any day, something terrible could happen that would send them away.

But, something about Ericson’s Boarding School for Troubled Youth felt right, something about sitting here with Louis, drawing cards and talking and laughing and being around him felt right, something about the others moving around them felt right. 

She can only hope that she doesn’t fuck it up somehow.

“Hmm, that’s strange,” Clementine smirks. “The greatest card player of all time lost.”

“I didn’t want you to feel bad.”

“How sweet.”

“I try,” Louis grins. “Ask away!”

Clementine looks him over, taking in his features. 

Over the two weeks, she had grown closer to everyone who lived within these walls but found herself coming back to Louis more than the others. 

She enjoyed his company, even if he told dumb jokes and made dumb excuses to get out of things. She enjoyed talking to him- well, she enjoyed flirting with him. She believes that’s what she’s doing when she compliments or teases him, and she likes it when he flirts back. She really,_ really_ likes it. 

“Tell me something about yourself.”

“Like what?”

“Anything,” she shrugs with a soft smile. 

“Y’know, the point of the game is to ask specific questions, right?”

“Yeah, but I want you to tell me something-” she pauses, glancing away, “-something you’ve never told anyone before.”

Louis blinks at her, taking in the solemn request, giving her a funny look. She didn’t know what it was about, maybe he was surprised that she wanted to know something more about him other than his love of music or his passion for pineapple on pizza. Disbelief, perhaps that’s what it was.

He opens his mouth to speak, but shuts it, gazing around before thoughtfully staring down at the table.

Finally, he says, “I lied, I actually hate pineapple on pizza.”

...What?

“It’s disgusting, horrible, shouldn’t be legal,” he goes on, “when we find that pizza parlor, we’re throwing all of their pineapples into the river.”

“You-” Clementine can’t help it- she laughs. “You are such a dork, oh my god.” 

“Pineapple on pizza is a sin, Clementine.” 

“That’s not what you said five minutes ago!” 

“I was hiding my true colors,” he laments, “now I bare my soul to you.” 

Laughter consumes her.

“Why are you laughing, Clem? This is serious!”

“Stop!” she giggles, throwing more cards at him, which causes him to retaliate with his own set, tossing them right back at her until cards fly and lie everywhere around them. 

Clementine laughs because what else can she do?

Get mad because he won’t take this seriously? Because he didn’t want to, or because he was scared to? 

She couldn’t possibly do that, not when he’s laughing just as hard as she is, not when the others are shaking their heads or watching them curiously. 

Maybe one day Louis would be serious with her... about more things that don’t involve card games. 


	26. [twin-tail braids]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 26: "Oops."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I’m late but better late than never, as they say. I just realized that I haven’t written any Aasim pre-Ericson/backstory/whatever and that is a sin that I must repent for. So, have this random moment.

With each spray, a mist of floral notes clings to damp hair as Aasim works his fingers through the locks, detangling and smoothing. With each easy pull and pass through, the young girl wiggles around, sending cold droplets falling onto his jeans. 

“Stop,” Aasim sighs, pressing both hands against the sides of her head and forcing her to look forward. “It’ll be crooked if you keep doing that.” 

“It tickles,” Aamirah complains, shifting pointedly in defiance.

With a raised brow, Aasim takes a chunk of her still dripping hair and slaps the ends against her cheek, causing her to squeal high and childishly. 

“Sim, no!” she cries, shaking her head back and forth like a mutt, sending water flying all over his face and shirt. “It’s gonna get tangly!”

“Yeah, if you keep doing that!” 

“Then stop!” 

Aasim laughs, holding her head again, saying, “C’mon, look forward.” 

Aamirah does as she’s told, sitting up straight with an exaggerated pout, making sure to press her bottom lip out as far as it can go. 

Grinning, Aasim takes the comb to part her hair into two equal sections. Getting to work on the first braid, he asks, “Do you want to be late and hafta walk in the snow and ruin your dress? Or get on the bus with only one braid?”

“No,” she grumbles. “I’ll look dumb.”

“Then knock it off.” 

He takes his time, knowing that they won’t actually miss the bus and have to walk with another forty minutes to finish getting ready and make breakfast. Mom left out the knock-off bag of cereal- ‘Fruity Dyno-Bites!’ a family favorite- on the counter for them before she went to work this morning, not having time to make anything special or even help them get ready for their big day at school. 

Aasim doesn’t mind. This way, he can have as much cereal as he wants without Mom scolding him for overdoing it, or taking the bag away from him before his second helping. Maybe he can eat too much and make himself sick and get himself excused from the performance altogether. 

Tying off the first braid, Aamirah begins to move again, becoming more and more anxious with every passing minute. She tugs and picks at the glitter flaking off her poofy skirt, covering the carpet beneath them in green. 

Somehow it’s even gotten in her hair and all over his hands, which is annoying because glitter doesn’t come out of _anything_ and now he’ll have to walk around school all day with it all over his sweater and jeans. When it comes time for class pictures in the afternoon, he’s going to sparkle in front of _everyone_.

Aasim rests his hands on her shoulders once both braids are done, turning her around in her seat to look over her.

With a giggle, Aamirah tugs on the twin-tail braids and feels around her head, dark eyes sparkling with delight as she smiles ear to ear.

“Is it cute? Is it cute?” she demands eagerly, latching onto his arm and throwing her weight against him. Aasim grunts, heaving her back up and settling her back onto the chair. “Is it cute?” 

“Oh-” Aasim cocks his head, frowning down at her. “Oops.” 

She freezes, eyes widening and smile dropping instantly. “What? What?”

Aasim bursts into a fit of giggles, pointing at her face. 

“It’s loppy!”

“_What_?”

When looking directly at her, Aamirah’s braids are indeed lopsided, one starting much higher than the other and one appearing much thicker. 

She swats at his chest and arms. “Fix it! Fix it, Sim! Fix it!” 

“We’re gonna miss the bus-”

“Nooo~” she whines, leaping forward and nearly tackling him down to the floor, holding his waist and going boneless. “Aasim! Fix it! You messed it up! Now fix it!”

For being so tiny, Aamirah’s undoubtedly heavy for a six-year-old. Aasim rolls his eyes, snickering, “Only if you give me your allowance this week.”

“Sim!” 

“Two dollars!”

“You’re a jerk!”

“Fine, a dollar-fifty and I’ll fix your hair.” 

“Nooo~” 

They almost missed the bus that morning, the fight going on longer than Aasim anticipated. His desire to have a second helping of Dyno-Bites! didn’t exactly make things any better. 

At least Aamirah’s braids were perfect for class pictures that afternoon. 


	27. [fine and dandy]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 27: Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Mitch because why not.

_There are around 10,000 different species of birds worldwide. They are a group of warm-blooded vertebrates constituting the class Aves, characterized by feathers, toothless beaked jaws, the laying of hard-shelled eggs, a high metabolic rate, a four-chambered heart-_

_There are around 10,000 different species of birds worldwide. They-_

_-the laying of hard-shelled eggs, a high metabolic rate, a four-chambered heart-_

_-10,000-_

_-a four-chambered heart-_

_-10,000 four-chambered heart-_

The words blur together. 

Blinking brings the sentences back to proper structure, but the words remain meaningless. 

Mitch’s nail digs into the page, splitting through to the next. 

_-their hollow bones help them fly-_

This is fucking stupid. 

So goddamn, motherfucking stupid.

The book falls into his lap, pages flipping over until they fall on an illustration of two sparrows in full color. Mitch would’ve taken an interest in it, memorized the details of the bird just in case he ever came across one outside the walls-

Slamming the book shut, careless in if the pages were properly laid out, resulting in some being folded and smushes, Mitch tosses the book across the floor. It lands beside the other bed, right on a pile of wrinkly shirts and jeans. 

His head throbs right behind his eyes, making them warm. 

Kicking away the clothes scattered around him, Mitch scoots himself to the center of the room before laying back and spreading himself out across the floor. Tension in his back releases, muscles thankful for the new position. 

Inhaling deeply, he breathes out a deep, broken, “Fuck.” 

_“Fuck you, dude! This sweater isn’t ugly!”  
_

_“You look like my grandma.”_

_“Talk shit all you want, but I’m gonna be the warmest one out there. Aasim said it might rain, or even snow, if it gets cold enough and I don’t want to come back a popsicle!”_

_“Okay, grams.”  
_

_“Screw you.”  
_

_“Y’know... now that you say it, that sweater does look familiar-”  
_

_“Because it’s mine.”  
_

_“No, no. I’m pretty sure I saw Aasim-”  
_

_“It’s mine, dickwad! I didn’t take it!”  
_

_“Never said you did, dumbass.”   
_

_“Fuck you.”   
_

The silence is so mind-numbingly loud, ringing the drums of his ears and throbbing in his brain. Ruby suggested he take something before he stormed out of Marlon’s office. He told her to fuck off. She didn’t chase after him.

What would a little pill do anyway? Pain killers aren’t gonna do shit. Save ‘em for someone who actually needs it. He’s fine.

_“Mitch! Shit- Mitch!”  
_

_“Jesus, what-?”  
_

_“Somethin’ happened, I- Aasim’s hurt and Marlon’s- jus’ c’mon!” _

_‘What? Aasim- what the fuck happened?”  
_

_“I dunno- c’mon, move it! Marlon’s office!”_

He’s fucking peachy. 

Fine and dandy. Swell. On top of the whole damn universe. 

Rolling onto his side, grunting when a belt buckle digs into his thigh, Mitch gazes beneath the bed at a box. It’s cloaked in shadows, damn near taunting him. 

Against his better judgment, he stretches a long arm out and seizes the box, yanking out from under the bed as he forces himself back up. Sour dizziness swirls in his brain at the quickness of the movement, but he swallows it down. He’s not going to puke today, just like how he’s not gonna lash out or cry or scream. 

The contents are as he remembers; nasty ass porno mags, comic books, letters from before the outbreak, a plush chipmunk holding a heart, and a half-eaten Almond Joy. 

Mitch wrinkles his nose. He doesn’t know what’s worse, the porn or the Almond Joy. 

_“You’re insane, Almond Joys are the best-”  
_

_“No, they’re the worst thing we’ve ever created as human beings. Remember Mr. Henderson? That’s ALL that he would give out on Halloween!”_

_“Oh shit, that’s right! Hey- hey, remember when we blew up the toilets?”_

_“Yeah! That was when he gave me a handful of ‘em!”  
_

_“Dude, there was shit everywhere!”  
_

_“He nearly puked his guts out when he had to clean it up. It was awesome!”  
_

_“Hell yeah!”   
_

Unwrapping the offending candy bar with a heavy scowl, Mitch takes a bite.

After exactly three chews, he spits it out, gagging.

“Ugh!” he rubs his tongue along his sleeve, grimacing at the spit covered chunk inside the box, stuck to the stuffed chipmunk. 

“Fuck you,” he curses the candy bar, tossing it into the trashcan beside his desk. Plucking the chipmunk out, he moves to his knees, ready to stand when it foot knocks the box over, spilling its contents. 

The letters and photos slip out, one, in particular, catching his eye. Heart hammering, head throbbing, and blood-chilling, Mitch gently pulls the photo free. 

The science fair, the one from his first year here. Mitch and Justin stand together in front of their handmade volcano, red oozing from the top and flooding the display. Behind it is a poster of volcano facts, written in Mitch’s scribbles. 

Justin has an arm locked around his shoulders, smiling so wide that his cheek flush and his eyes practically closed. He’s missing one of his front teeth. 

Mitch is smiling, too, but it’s awkward and pretty fake. He always hated smiling for pictures, and even though he held a first prize ribbon- the same ribbon pinned to the wall above his desk- and had Justin wrapped around him, he couldn’t find it in himself to enjoy the moment when it was being captured like that. 

_“Hey, you wanna be partners for the science fair?”_

_“Huh?”  
_

_“The science fair? You’re doing it, right? I heard that if we win, we each get twenty dollars! And a ribbon!"_

_“I’m not partnering with you. You’ll just make me do everything.”  
_

_“Nu-uh! Come on, Mitch, please?”  
_

_“Why don’t you partner with someone else?”_

_“Because I want to partner with you. You’re, like, really good at this stuff, and we’re friends. And if we don’t partner up, I might get stuck with Louis.”  
_

_“Dude, Louis isn’t even doing the science fair.”  
_

_“Please, Mitch?”_

His chin quivers, so he bites his lip hard enough to tear the sensitive flesh.

Justin...

Oh, Jesus fuck, _Justin_. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck-

_“I’m sorry, man, there was just... too many of them. They heard the crash and just surrounded us.”  
_

_“...”  
_

_“I tried to stop him, grab him and pull him away, I really did, but I...”  
_

_“...”  
_

_“Aasim could barely walk and we had to get him out of there. If we didn’t, then we would’ve lost two of us or more, and it- it was already too late.”  
_

_“...”  
_

_“I’m sorry, Mitch.” _


	28. [when marcus comes to ericson]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 28: Things Left Unsaid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one’s a little different. Super short. Like, holy shit this might be the only actual drabble here. Also, once again, I experiment with first-person and struggle.

_things to tell/ask Marcus when he comes to get me:_

_1\. I missed you and I can’t believe your here_

_2\. did you bring any thing back from europe for us to eat? pleese say you brought chocolate cake and the walkers didn’t eat it on the way here._

_3\. have you heard from mom and dad? are they safe?_

_4\. I learned that if we take apples and add cinnaman and sugar, then cook them over the fire, it tastes just like pie filling! but we have to be careful when we make it because Marlon eats it all like a fat pig and then not everyone gets some _

_5\. yes I did tell him that and that’s why I have this bruise on my arm. Please beat him up for me and then you can be our new “leader” because that would be cool_

_6\. I really really really REALLY missed you _

_7\. did europe have walkers? are things there super bad? if not can we all go and live in the bakery? that would be cool_

_8\. I don’t have a roommate anymore but I cleaned off the other bed for you. I think you might be too big for it but maybe it will work? _

_9\. I’m offishally the cook of the group. I make dinner every night. The group loves it, but they will love it even more when you are running the show. _

_10._

The tip of the pen presses into the page, ink spreading and seeping through to the other page. Omar bites his lip, reading over his list with a frown. This is the third time he’s made this list over the past few weeks, but it still doesn’t feel right. When Marcus comes, is he going to bring out his notebook and read off everything to him?

No, that’s dumb, he thinks. 

When Marcus comes to Ericson to get him, to make sure he’s okay, Omar will know what to say. He’ll say everything that he never got to say in phone calls, emails, or letters before the outbreak. He’ll say everything he wanted to say before Marcus left the country to pursue his dream. He’ll say everything he should’ve said when he had the chance. 

His pen moves swiftly as he fills in the final line. 

_10\. I love you. I’m glad your here now with me and the rest of us._


	29. [i like fruit]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 29: Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short clouis confession from Louis’ point of view? Yes, please.

“...Everyone hears the jokes, the piano... after that, they stop listening. You didn’t.”

From within the confines of his chest, Louis’ heart thrashes against his rib cage, almost demanding to be let free, to save him from this overwhelming silence that fell upon the music room. 

He’s about to break, about to curl in on the disappointment and rejection, perhaps crack a joke and pretend he didn’t just open himself up to the girl beside him.

Clementine avoids his gaze, a thoughtfulness crossing her expression as she eyes the initials carved into the piano encased within a heart. A heart- a damn _heart!_

He might throw up. Fuck, that’d be embarrassing. 

_“Hey, Clementine, thank you for not giving up on me after everything and seeing me for who I really am! I’m sorry that I puked all over your boots after I pretty much told you how much you mean to me! If the raiders don’t kill us, I owe you a new pair! What’s your shoe size?” _

Warmth seeps into his skin, breaking his train of thought. Clementine grabs his hand, scooting herself close enough for their thighs to press together. He’s amazed his eyes didn’t bug right out of his head. 

“So, um,” she starts, running a thumb over his. “I like you, a lot. Like, like you... as more than a friend.” 

...Wait, did she just-

_“I like you, a lot.”_

Holy shit-

_“-as more than a friend.”_

_“-more than a friend.”   
_

_“-more than a friend.”   
_

Over and over, her words echo through his brain as he stares at her, the timid smile one occupying her lips falling when he remains shocked into silence. 

“...No jokes? Nothing?” 

Holy shit, she’s _worried_. 

_C’mon, Louis, get your shit together!_

“...When you said you had feelings for someone during the game, I was hoping it was me,” Louis confesses, letting out a small, shaky breath. Giddiness overwhelms him, bringing a toothy grin of his own as he continues, “And it is. Holy shit, it’s me!” 

Relief cuts through her worry as she laughs. 

“Of course it’s you,” she squeezes his hand, “who else would it be?”

“Imaginary walker dude from the woods-” Clementine rolls her eyes, but laughs, “-since, y’know, you said you’d marry him and all. Or Violet, since you two are close... Aasim, Ruby... Hell, maybe Mitch had you swooning with all his charm?”

“You’re a weirdo,” she nudges his shoulder fondly. 

“Yeah, but apparently, you’re into that so who’s the real weirdo here?”

“Both of us.”

“Both of us,” he agrees, biting his lip and shifting his position, fingers pressing into the keys. “Figured out what to call the song.”

“Yeah?”

“Clementine,” he grins. “Y’know, because I like fruit.” 

She raises a brow at him in mock annoyance, but the rosiness heating her skin says that she’s anything but. 

“And I like you even more, so-” Louis finishes off with the final press of keys, fingers trembling, “..._there_.”

Clementine sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, moistening it with her tongue as Louis continues to babble.

“You know, of all the things I saw coming, you having a crush on me was not it. I mean, you stabbing me in my sleep? Yes. You having a crush on me? No-”

_Holy shit-_

Her hand presses against the back of his head, pulling him down to meet her in a kiss which Louis feels himself melt into with eyes closed and a soft sigh. Their lips press together, unsure but comfortable, warm and intoxicating. He could do this all night, all year, all decade, for the rest of his life. 

A soft moan vibrates in Clementine’s throat and Louis nearly passes out. He’s too warm, flushed cheeks throbbing in time with his erratic heart. When they finally part, lingering close, breaths mingling as lids flutter open. 

Louis laughs. 

He can’t help it. He _giggles _like some lovestruck fool.

It’s okay, though, because she’s giggling, too. 

A pair of lovestruck fools. 


	30. [that explosion was beautiful]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 30: Endings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m finally finished with this damn challenge! Three months late! I don’t even care, I finished it, and I’m proud! Though next time I do one of these challenges [because yeah, spoiler alert, I’m going to be doing one next month] I’m going to make it much shorter hahaha. Anyway, we’re ending this with a quick look at the aftermath of the delta’s ship exploding since I’ve gotten asks in the past about Mitch’s role at that point.

The word “beautiful” isn’t one that Mitch throws around a lot. Hell, he can’t remember the last time he of the word or even spoke it aloud.

But that explosion was beautiful.

The earth shook and it rained bits of wood and metal. The river sent waves of water crashing against the pier and the shore, and the world had a sunset glow to it made only uncanny knowing the sun actually set hours ago.

The whole sight was one Mitch would’ve enjoyed if not for the walkers roaming around, riled up from the commotion, drawn to the flaming, sinking ship enough to swim through the river. That topped with the fact that he lost Clementine and AJ after the broiler finally went off ruined the moment the explosion blew the boat into nonexistence. He managed to find Tenn, sending him in the direction of Aasim and Omar. 

Mitch tried not to be rough with the kid, even if he was still annoyed at him for breaking his cover to try and sneak onto the boat, getting them both caught when Mitch went after him. 

His cheek throbs painfully, bruised by the hand that was Lilly’s. 

_“You’re tough, I’ll give you that. You’d make a nice addition to our community, a strong soldier... But you’re stupid. We’ll have to work on that.” _

Mitch scoffs. 

Joke’s on her- he’s not the one with a bullet in the face right now. Bitch. 

He stabs another walker through the head, shoving the limp body aside as he frantically searches the area, senses overwhelmed and on high alert. He takes out two more walkers before he sees someone through the thick fog of smoke.

Clementine’s lying face-first on the ground, AJ right beside her. They’re not unconscious from what he can tell, both shifting but obviously disoriented.

Walkers take notice of them, especially when Clementine sits up to grasp her thigh, grunting and wincing in pain. Mitch is running without a second thought.

“Shit!” he hears her curse, realizing that one of the walkers is stumbling towards them. 

He makes it in time, kicking the back of the walker’s knee before directing his knife through its skull. It falls forward, limp against the dirt. 

“Mitch!” AJ cries, jumping to his feet. “You made it!”

“Yeah,” Mitch huffs, wiping at his brow with a grin and offering Clementine a hand. “’Course I did.”

Clementine’s arms are around him in seconds, hugging his waist and saying, “You have no idea how happy I am to see you!”

While Mitch isn’t a huggy person in the slightest, he tosses that aside to hug her back. They nearly died on that fucking thing, he can make an exception this time.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, awkwardly patting her back. “Don’t get your snot all over my shirt.” 

That makes her laugh. 

“Sorry.” 

“Shit,” Mitch watches blood soak through Clementine the pants of her thigh where a wound cuts deep, “you okay? Can you walk?” 

“Yeah, it’s not bad-”

The relief of their reunion is short-lived when a cry echoes out from the shore.

It’s Louis with his arms around Violet’s waist, a walker clutching onto her boot, groaning and gurgling water. Louis kicks at it, but slips, causing both of them to fall into the mud, slipping further into the water. 

Violet doesn’t move. 

“Louis! Vi!” Clementine calls for them but steps back when she attracts the attention of nearby walkers. 

“They’re hurt!” AJ gasps. 

“Get the fuck off-!” Louis shouts at the fucker, giving a final, hard kick to its skull, caving it in and sending the walker back into the water. 

Clementine, injuries forgotten, snatches her bow from the ground and plants herself firmly. She shoots the walker with ease, as well as a few more taking an interest in Louis as he struggles to get Violet out of the water. 

She lunges forward, ready to dart towards them but stumbles, grasping at her bleeding thigh with a sharp intake.

“Clem!” AJ’s by her side in an instant, grabbing her arm and staring wide-eyed at the gaping wound. 

Fuck, more walkers are approaching. 

“Clem, can you get to them?” he asks.

“Yeah, yeah, can you-”

“Go!” Mitch readies his knife with a firm nod. “I got it! Go get them!” 

Clementine returns his nod before dashing towards the river where Louis drags Violet fully out of the water.

The fuckers are everywhere, but they’re not hard to take out thanks to the little knee trick that Clementine taught him. How the hell did he not think of that before? Now it just seems so obvious. He’d have to remind himself to thank her if they all made it back to the school in one piece.

Gunshots ring through the woods, a chorus of walker cries and infuriated shouts follow suit. The remaining delta fuckers group together, shooting walkers and arguing with each other. 

Mitch watches one of them get grabbed, a walker sinking its teeth into her throat and tearing the flesh apart. 

It’s a strange feeling to watch someone get bit and feel zero remorse.

Fuck ‘em, they’re getting what they had coming.

“Mitch! Get over here! They’re hurt!” 

"Fuck,” Mitch hisses, knuckles white around the handle of his blade. He dashes towards them to find Louis pressing on Violet’s chest, counting to himself before pausing to breathe into her mouth. AJ’s by Violet’s head, mouth pouting sadly.

Panic settles in his stomach as Mitch turns to stare wide-eyed at Clementine, asking, “Fuck, is she...?”

“No!” Louis exclaims, blood smeared along his jaw and dripping down his quivering chin, looking as though he may cry. “She’s fine, I just- we- _fuck_, c’mon Vi!”

“What happened?” AJ asks. 

Louis doesn’t seem to hear the boy’s question, leaning over to breathe more air into Violet’s lungs until her body convulses, water spewing from Violet’s mouth as she begins to choke.

“Oh, thank God!” Clementine falls beside Louis, helping him roll Violet onto her side so she can cough up the remaining water. 

“Violet!” Louis is crying now, tears falling down his face as he pulls her to him, cradling her in his arms. “Fuck, I thought- I’m so sorry, Vi. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” His voice falls quiet as he murmurs his apologies over and over again. 

“We have to move her,” Clementine says. “It’s not safe here.”

“Aasim and Omar are waiting for us,” Mitch agrees. “They’re over there.”

“I can carry her,” Louis sniffles. When he tries to curl her up into a position which he could lift her, Violet struggles, though it’s pointless. She’s far too enervated from the explosion, her injuries, and nearly drowning. All she can do is pound pathetically at Louis’ chest.

“You-” Violet manages, “-you_ bastard_-”

“C’mon, Vi,” Louis says, “we gotta get up. I got you.” 

She barely fights him, letting him pull her up on trembling legs. She leans into him for support, cheek pressed into his chest.

“God, what the fuck happened to you guys?” Mitch asks. 

“Minnie-” Violet whispers, nearly collapsing until Louis leans down to place his arm behind her knees, lifting her up and turning to gaze back at the nearly sunken boat. 

The flames hide the despair behind his dark eyes, as for what that despair was about, Mitch didn’t know. He didn’t know what happened in that boat, only on top of it. 

Together, they make it over to Aasim and Omar with no trouble, crouching down beside them- well, Louis collapses, huffing with his back against the rocks, still cradling Violet who looks ready to pass out. 

“Oh, thank god,” Aasim exclaims. “You guys okay?”

“Violet?” Omar asks, still clutching his wounded leg. 

Louis shakes his head at him, saying, “She’s okay... we’re okay.”

“Willy and Ruby brought a cart around to get us the hell outta here,” Mitch nods over the rocks. “We just gotta get everyone over there.”

“We can do that,” Clementine nods, raising her bow. “You guys go ahead. I’ll stay back and cover you.”

“You sure?” Mitch asks. “You’re leg’s still fucked up.”

“Yeah, I-”

“Wait,” AJ grabs onto Clementine’s sleeve, eyes narrowed as he stares off into the distance. “Tenn..? Tenn! And- and James! Look!”

Fuck. 

Fuck, he’s right! 

Tenn stands close behind James across the beach. From what Mitch can tell, James has two knives that he’s using to take down every walker coming near them, bodies beginning to pile up. 

Holy shit...

It’s Tenn who spots them first, waving over at them with a pleading expression.

Mitch sighs, frustrated. He told Tenn to meet up with Aasim and Omar! He pointed him in the right direction, so what the hell is he doing over there? And with James? 

Well, shit, he shouldn’t be mad about that. The guy is protecting Tenn from being completely devoured so Mitch can set aside any annoyance for the moment. 

“We have to help them," says Louis, helplessly looking around and down at Violet, who’s fully unconscious now and deadweight in his arms. 

“I got it,” Mitch says, turning back to Clementine before she can speak. “Get everyone across to the cart. I’ll grab Tenn.”

“You can’t go alone,” Aasim objects. “There are way too many walkers! It’s too dangerous!”

“Don’t worry, I won’t be alone,” Mitch jerks his thumb back towards Tenn and James. “Our little walker friend will be there to keep me company.”

Aasim narrows his eyes, clearly confused. “What? What walker friend?”

“James,” AJ answers. “He wears walker skin.”

“Wait, the one Clem said she’d marry? He’s here?” 

"Yes, Aasim, that James,” Clementine scowls. “He helped us break into the boat. He’s a friend. We can trust him.”

Aasim looks ready to ask another million questions but shuts up when another gunshot goes off, followed by a scream and ripping flesh. 

“Oh my god...” Omar’s eyes widen as he watches the rest of the raiders go down. 

More and more walkers are approaching the beach, finishing off the rest of the raiders and if they don’t hurry their asses up, they’ll be next.

“No time to argue,” Mitch insists, gripping his knife tight. “I’ll grab Tenn and meet you guys back at the school. Get everyone into the cart and ride like hell!” 

Before anyone else can protest, Mitch is running from cover and across the beach, dodging and kicking and stabbing his way to Tenn and James.


End file.
